


The Saints

by Kayleecole21



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies), Curphy - Fandom, Flandus - Fandom, Norman Reedus - Fandom, Sean Patrick Flanery - Fandom
Genre: Bondage, Boondock Saints - Freeform, Curphy, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, Flandus - Freeform, Kink, Multi, Murphy macmanus - Freeform, Norman Reedus - Freeform, Oral Sex, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Sean Patrick Flanery - Freeform, Sex, Sexual Content, Shameless Smut, Smut, The Boondock Saints - Freeform, connor MacManus - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-21 13:19:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 131,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1551890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayleecole21/pseuds/Kayleecole21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arriving in Boston by chance, a young woman quickly becomes intimate and intertwined with two twin Irish brothers, who soon will embark on a religious epic against that which they believe to be evil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Boston

Chapter One:

The low fuel light switched on, illuminating violent orange through the darkness of the late 80’s model ford pick up, and you thanked whatever deity, if any, were listening, for this sweet glimpse of an escape.   
He had been rambling on for hours. First about how he had secretly nailed the head cheerleader in high school but she denied it to all of her friends, (not that he cared, of course. Ass was ass), then he had slowly drawn on about how he had no time for college, what with snagging such a sweet gig at the local shipping yard. As he would have you understand, everything in his life would have been smooth sailing if he hadn’t knocked up Darlene, the bartender at A Boy Named Sue. Bitch wanted every cent the shipping yard had to offer.   
So here he was. On the run from Darlene and whatever bus stop lawyer her tips could afford her. He had picked you up in the parking lot of a 24-7 waffle house right off of the highway. You had been there about three hours since you ditched your last ride. There was a guaranteed annoyance about him when he approached you. He, who introduced himself as Leo, and was a thin man with even thinner hair. Leo had a ketchup stain on his faded KISS T-shirt, and as much as you knew you wouldn’t enjoy his company, you did need the ride, and he appeared harmless enough.   
Little did you know that you would soon be subject to hearing his life story, not the real one though, the tainted story. The story of how Leo saw his life; full of all the wrongs that had been done to him and how he was nothing more than a devil-may-care underdog, trying to make it to tomorrow. You suppose that is how most people choose to perceive their own lives though, and you forgive Leo for the lies he spouts as you pretend to be interested in the blanket of darkness that lies inches outside of your passenger side window.   
When that light came on, he didn’t notice it at first. You waited. Leo just stared out the windshield and was telling you how his child, who he wasn’t even sure was really his, was better off without him anyway, and he was only 3/4th of a mile from the next high way exit. You were in the middle of Massachusetts, and you were sure the next exit couldn’t be much further, but you were anxious to stretch your legs and put some distance between you and Leo’s unholy odor combination of stale beer and sweat.   
“…She always did love men, Darlene did, I won’t miss her, but she was a lay to remember..”  
“Hey, I think you need gas. Maybe we should hit this exit? I could use a bathroom break too.”   
Leo looked slightly shocked that you had cut him off, especially since you hadn’t said much at all through your nine-hour journey together.   
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure.”  
The old truck veered to the right and made a left at the bottom of the ramp. There was a Gas and Go up at the next light, but all of the pumps were full. This struck you as odd, since it was pushing 2AM.   
“Why are so many people getting gas in the middle of the night?” You absent-mindedly asked Leo.  
“Sweetheart, this is Boston. Nobody ever sleeps in the big cities.”  
You hadn’t noticed how far you had gotten. You had been lost for hours, wandering about in your own head. Imagining what your parents would tell the neighbors when you missed Tammy Samuel’s’ baby shower this Saturday. The horror your mother would have to endure as she admitted that her ‘beloved’ daughter had deserted the family without a notice or care.  
You traveled two more lights before you spot a dimly lit 7-11 on your side of the road. Leo turns and you pass a shabby looking Irish bar with the lights on. The pick-up whined as it came to a slow halt in front of the gas pump. You leapt from the car as if your life depended on it.  
“I’m going to run inside, see what the ladies’ room has to offer at this fine establishment.”  
“Yeah. Figure I should piss as well, before we hit the high way again for the night.”  
You walk into the convenient store, and head towards the bathroom, but you don’t go in. As soon as you see Leo disappear behind the swinging Men’s door, you turn right around and book it back to the truck. You grab your belongings from the cab and dash across the street.   
Leo would wait a while for you, but hopefully won’t take too long to realize you’re gone. It wasn’t that you saw Leo as a threat, but if you had learned anything while hitch hiking, it was do not underestimate men who pick up hitch hikers.   
The rest of the street was lightless as you inhaled the stale smell of factory smoke in the air. It was cool out, but not cold. You let your lean arms hug your middle tight as you walk at a faster pace to put more distance between you and Leo.   
McGinty’s. That was the name of the Irish bar. You had walked up to the door, and stopped. It was the only place with the lights on for an entire block. The door was a heavy oak one and actually took a little effort to push inward as you enter.   
The place was old, and not well maintained, but you could tell that it was a place for men. Men owned it, maintained it, and frequented it. You may have been the first women there in years. A few heads turn your way as the door slams loudly against it’s frame behind you.   
You were young. Only twenty-two, and you had a fair face that made you look horribly naïve. You purposely try to walk with confidence as you head towards the bar.  
An old man is serving drinks and he winks at you as he fills up a pint. You notice that he had kind eyes and he automatically puts you at ease. He walks up to you from behind the bar, dragging an obvious limp that he picked up from god knows where.   
“What can I do you for, my dear?” His voice was rough and his accent was thick.  
“A Beer? I don’t care what kind. Whatever is the cheapest… Oh, and a shot of something. Again, whatever is cheap.”   
He smiled at you and shuffles away. He gets another beer for a dark haired man who is laughing thickly with a blonde man whose jawline was heart stopping. You catch his glace from the corner of his eye, but he quickly turns back to his visibly drunk friend who is trying to persuade the elderly bartender to say ‘fuck, ‘ or ‘ass.’   
After giving into the dark haired drunk’s request, the senior bar keep slowly wobbles back over to you, carrying a tall glass filled with a dark, amber colored liquid, and a shot glass full of what you could already smell was whisky.   
“Thanks.” You mumble and the man winks again, which again, makes you feel more at ease.   
You take a sip off of the beer and remember why you always hated the stuff. You stare at the whisky, which you aren’t overly excited about either. It was bad enough that you had a face that made you look like a catholic schoolgirl; you weren’t about to walk into a strange bar, in the middle of downtown Boston, at 2AM and order a fucking water.   
You grimace before the glass even touches your lips, but you inhale and throw the whisky back. You were stupid to think that it would be over once you swallowed, as the burn came a second after the liquid had disappeared down your throat. You hate yourself for it, but you can’t help but let you a weak cough. It was quiet, but still was heard by the blonde who rocked that jawline of his for days.   
He turned and you locked eyes. He smiles and you quickly look back down at your beer, pretending to be quite taken with it. A few seconds pass and you decide to risk looking up again, but as you do, sure enough, the blonde is still staring at you.   
His drunk friend has his head down on the bar and is mumbling back and forth with the old man. He pats him on the back and whispers something to him. He then gets off of his bar stool and walks in your direction. You try not to stare as he pulls a cigarette out of his jeans’ pocket, and sticks it in the left corner of his mouth.   
“You want one?” His accent was Irish, and it was beautiful. It was different than the old man’s, more pronounced, and silkier.   
“I’d love one.” It was the truth. Although alcohol had never had much appeal for you, you did love cigarettes. The way the smoke curled inside you and you could taste and feel it as it entered and exited you. Something about it had always been somewhat sensual in your eyes.   
He handed you a cigarette, slightly abused from being shoved inside his tight jeans. You took it gratefully and leaned forward as he offered to light it for you.   
“What’s yer name, Darlin’?”   
“Rylee.” You answer shortly and suck on your smoke deeply.   
“Rylee? Huh. Where are you from? I bet it’s not here.” He smiled again and his hazel eyes squinted. You stared at him for a moment before you answered.   
“Salt Lake. What about you? I bet you’re not from here either.” You grin, but do so as you look down.   
“You skipped a question. Don’t you want to know my name first? Before you ask where I’m from?” He leaned one elbow on the bar and turned his body to face you.   
“I’m going to take a wild guess and bet that you’re from Ireland?”   
“Nope. Detroit, actually.” You can’t help but laugh at his obvious lie. You can feel your cheeks turn red while you blush and you hate yourself a little for appearing even more like an adolescent girl than your physical appearance already gave away.   
“Connor. My name’s Connor.”


	2. Connor MacManus

You exhaled your lungs’ capacity of smoke, and watch as it curled around your beer in a slow, rhythmic motion.   
You had been talking to Connor for nearly an hour. He had a hearty laugh, the kind that comes from deep within your gut. You weren’t sure if that was his normal laugh, or if its thickness had been enhanced due to his current blood alcohol level.   
The two of you had exchanged personal quirks, teased each other, and had talked about everything that had little to no personal value, so you don’t feel like you’re giving too much away during a verbal exchange with a stranger.  
Connor MacManus was captivating, and you found yourself fighting back the urge to taste the sweat glistening skin that was draped tightly over his collarbones. He was older than you, by a number of years. The two of you hadn’t exchanged ages, it was almost as if you were both avoiding that question, but you knew he had to have at least five or six years on you, possibly more.   
Connor had introduced you to his drunken friend, Rocco, who had swaggered over to the two of you about twenty minutes ago. He slurred his words badly and ran a heavy hand against your cheek, calling you beautiful and making Connor laugh half way through his cigarette drag.   
The old man behind the dark, wooden bar, also came and introduced himself to you. His name was Doc, and he told you that Connor was a ‘good boy.’ When he tells you this, you can’t hide the smile that spreads from cheek to cheek. You can’t help but trust this old man and his judgment, and you are more than grateful when he won’t accept your cash in repayment for your alcohol.   
The other patrons were slowly heading towards their beds, leaving the bar increasingly emptier by the minute. Rocco was asleep at a table in the corner. Doc was cleaning beer pints and Connor was staring at you as you grimace at your beer.   
“You don’t drink, do ya?”   
“No.” You blurt out the truth, as if his hazel eyes and dirty blonde hair were some form of sexual truth serum. “I’ve never really liked it, honestly.”  
“Then why are you trying to spend money you don’t have on booze you don’t want?’  
You inhale and look at him without turning your head.   
“A pretty girl like you, carrying a duffle bag instead of a purse, and drinking in this place, at this time of night… You’ve never been to Boston before, and I seriously doubt that you are planning on going back to Salt Lake anytime soon.”  
“Well look who can guess a girl’s life story.” You smile coyly, but he’s not fooled by your flirtatious attempt to change the subject. “I couldn’t stay with my parents anymore. They dreamed their entire life of having this daughter, this very specific girl. They had made her up in their heads, everything she was supposed to be. Then they had me. Once they realized that I wasn’t that girl, that that girl didn’t exist, they just lost interest. They didn’t beat me, or degrade me. I just wasn’t enough for them, so I left.”  
You took a long sip off of your flat beer, just trying to break the tension of your over share.   
“Nah. That’s not why you left.”   
You look up at him, brushing your bangs out of your left eye.   
“You left because they weren’t enough for you. You need to know the difference.”   
You scoff a little at Connor’s statement, turning back to face your half empty glass.   
“Is that why you left Ireland? Someone wasn’t enough for you?” You asked him, with a slight hint of bitterness in your voice. You turn back to him, your hair falling back into place, draping over your left eye.  
“Aye. That’s exactly why.” His eyes met yours with a stare that could set you on fire. You feel his callused fingers push your hair out of your eye and you feel an electric shock run up and down your spine as he touches you for the first time.   
“You need a place to stay tonight? It’s no fucking penthouse but…”  
“Yes. Thank you.”   
He gives you a half smile at how fast you blurted out your answer. Connor nods towards the back door that is set next to the restroom. You both stand up off of your squeaky bar stools, and you pick up your heavy bag off of the worn, wooden floor. Connor links his fingers through yours as he leads you towards this door that had to lead to some sort of back ally, as you hear the heavy sound of Doc locking up the front entrance. Connor leans his back against the back door and yells, “Night, Doc. Roc okay here for the night?” over your head. You hear a deep, throaty, “Aye,” sound from behind you.  
The night air slapped you in the face harshly, you hadn’t realized how warm and welcoming McGinty’s had been. As the wind circled you, you were washed in a sweet aroma of cigarette smoke and cheap body wash that was wafting off of Connor. The moonlight rushed down Connor’s broad shoulders as he heaved on his heavy black pea coat.   
Before you could talk yourself out of it, you pull on Connor’s hand, making him turn back around quickly to face you. You stand on the balls of your feet to be tall enough to meet his lips with yours and engage in a hot, wet, mess of kisses. Connor lets a low growl out in surprise as you force your tongue into his sweet mouth.   
Your fingers tighten their grasp on his as your other hand quickly makes the climb up to tug at Connor’s dishwater locks.   
The ally was completely engulfed in darkness, with the exception of the dim moon above you, shielded from a thick layer of city smog. There was something tantalizing about barley being able to see Connor. You let go of his hand to feel his firm body, wildly. You eagerly grab at what you can’t see, as if your hands are starving to explore every inch of him.   
Your fingers find his jeans and you slip your hand inside them. You don’t find any boxers or briefs beneath the denim; just Connor, rock solid and throbbing as you lightly graze his head. You grasp the button on his jeans and yank his body into yours, shoving your tongue even deeper and more passionately into his mouth. Connor inhales sharply through your violent kisses and grabs your ass roughly and lifts.  
You feel your back make contact with the dirty brick wall of McGinty’s as your feet leave the ground and wrap around Connor’s waist. You can feel him against you, between your legs and you feel a harsh ache run through your core. Two layers of denim are all that keeps you apart.   
Connor bites your neck and that turns you near crazed as you drop your legs back to the ground just long enough for him to read your mind, and start ripping off your jeans. Your ass is instantly exposed to the night air as chills run through your skin and bumps pimple across your overly pale complexion. Your digits are slightly numb due to the cold, as you fumble sloppily with Connor’s belt. You yank hard and pull it completely out of his pant loops as he let’s himself out of his jeans, finishing the task for you.   
Connor’s rough hands against your smooth backside make you so wet that it aches, as he lifts you upwards again. Your legs once again find each other around Connor’s waist and link together, beneath his warm pea coat. Your arms are just able to grasp around Connor’s neck as he dives deep inside of you without warning.   
“Fuck,” You moan as he stops long enough to take in your facial expression, that first magical moment where you both realize that your bodies have become one for the first time. Your eyes search his face and his scan yours, as he slowly holds you steady and pulls himself outward, leaving just his tip at the start of your entrance. He watches your face carefully, trying to read whether he had moved too hard or too fast for you.   
His hazel eyes water slightly as a gust of wind whips through the alley, but they never leave yours, as this moment sits between the two of you. Timeless.   
You nod.   
Connor growls, sharply, against the silent night, and dives deeply back in. You gave him the permission he was looking for. You can feel his hot, soft tongue making it’s way up your neck and massaging your ear lob and you clutch his shoulders for dear life. Connor is doing all of the work; you attempt to roll your hips along with his rapid thrusts, but he won’t allow it. He clutches your ass hard and shoves your heat up to meet him, over and over.   
The noises Connor let’s escape from his mouth are delicious, but you can tell that he is trying desperately to muffle his pleasure in your neck. You grip his hair tightly and stick your mouth near his ear. “Louder, Connor. I need to hear you… please.” You pant and whine the words and he releases his moans from deep within. He becomes animalistic with his needs as he bites your collarbone hard enough that you wince at the pain, but you find yourself crying “Harder,” as you feel your sex overload with fluid and need.   
Connor speeds up just as you realize that you are still holding his belt tightly in your hand. Before you give yourself a chance to back down, you wrap it around his neck, stringing it through the metal clasp and tightening it.   
Connor stops momentarily, again, searching your face. He is looking for trust. He doesn’t know you, but he finds what he’s looking for. He gives you the same knowing nod that you had given him only moments before.   
You pull it tight against his throbbing neck and you feel his shaft flex with excitement deep inside yourself. Connor throws his head back and stares up at the sky for a moment before he turns his attention back towards your neck and he digs his fingers deeper into your ass cheeks.   
“Connor… Connor!”  
You’re close, and he knows it.   
“Tighter,” he yells, in an attempt to catch up with your quickly approaching climax; and you pull harder on the belt.  
He coughs a little against the leather, which makes you second-guess yourself for a moment, but you can’t focus on that. You can’t focus on anything. A layer of hot relief is washing over you, just as you feel a hot flood release inside of you.   
“Jesus!” Connor groans into your neck.   
Your hands release the belt and find Connor’s solid jaw, forcing his face up to kiss you as the two of you ride out your euphoria together.   
Your tongues dance together, as your mouths are open and panting in unison. Your hips are glued together by a thin layer of sweat.   
Connor chuckles and groans as you gently remove the belt from his neck and he softly lowers your legs back to the ground.   
You stumble a little; your legs are numb and unstable. You quickly pull up your jeans; the sweat all over your skin is not your friend against the night’s wind.   
“Well, let’s fucking go home then, shall we?”   
Connor takes you by the hand, and leads you to the opening at the end of the ally.


	3. Murphy MacManus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rylee is awoken to a man burning her bacon for breakfast, a man who's not Connor.

The next few hours were unforgettable.   
Connor grabbed you a taxi at the end of the block, and the two of you made the seven-minute car ride back to his ‘no-fucking-penthouse’ apartment. In the back seat the two of you couldn’t help yourselves from being all hands.   
You had sat down on the worn pleather seat next to Connor, only to have him scoop you up by your hips and place you in his lap, where milliseconds later your tongues were reunited.   
You didn’t talk. You just touched each other and kissed, like any moment someone would stop the two of you from ever being able to kiss again.   
The cab had stopped in front of a condemned looking building. You would have been skeptical, if you hadn’t spent the last week staying in much worse. The two of you rode an overly rickety elevator to the fifth floor, where it opened up into the shabbiest studio apartment you had ever seen.   
It was one room. Kitchen, shower, toilet, everything. There were two twin-sized mattresses laying side by side on the concrete floor and a metal set of stairs against the far wall that seemed to go up towards the roof.   
You hadn’t even put your bag down before you felt Connor’s teeth gently gnawing on your neck and his breath inside of your ear as he licked the lobe.   
The two of you spent the remainder of the night grinding into each other with a ferocious vigor. Finally, Connor was asleep.   
He had slipped into unconsciousness nearly mid sentence; rambling on, exhaustedly, about how he loved your big ears. You watched his chest rise and fall rhythmically, and examined his face closely, his hands, his neck. The belt had left a slight bruise on either side, and you kissed your passion marks that you had left on him.   
As you lean over him to kiss the other side of the bruise, you see the Virgin Mary tattooed there, something that you had managed to miss in the darkness of night.   
He was catholic. He must be. Irish, and in Boston, the odds of him not being Catholic were slim to none. Not that it really mattered, but it made you feel odd, somewhere down in your stomach.   
You had never really jumped on the bandwagon of any specific religion. You were never confident enough to swear off the existence of a deity entirely, there were just too many lack of assurances in the world for you to believe anything with too many specifications.   
The sun was beginning to rise now, washing the filthy apartment in an orange glow. You slither your way between Connor’s chest and arm and close your eyes. For the first time in years, you were looking forward to what came next. Connor MacManus was the beginning of something, and that thought alone lulled you into slumber. 

 

There were no sheets on the mattress, just a worn blanket tossed on top that you and Connor had crawled under. It was irritating to your naked skin, and your mess of hair and fallen over your face. Connor wouldn’t find some gloriously beauty lying next to him the next day. Morning had never been kind to you, and you had always thought it took you until around noon to get your bearings on the day.   
The smell of bacon was making its way into your nose and you rubbed your face against the mattress, trying to force yourself awake, something that you quickly realized had been a horrible mistake. The mattress was really rather rank, so you rolled over onto your back and allowed the rafter ceiling of the apartment to come into focus.   
A hangover was dancing across your temples; not an alcohol induced one of course, but rather a sexually induced one. Your body ached without mercy from head to toe, and your throat felt horse. You were fairly positive that you could shower all day and still smell like sex.   
You coughed, revealing that you were no longer asleep.   
“Coffee?”  
You sat straight up, looking anxiously around the room, before you remember that you were naked and clutched the matted blanket up to your chest.   
The voice that had offered you coffee had not been Connor’s.   
This voice was Irish as well, but it was lighter, in pitch and pronunciation.   
That’s when you saw him.   
Standing at the stove; shirtless and wearing filthy jeans; was a man with a mess of dark locks and skin possibly paler than your own.   
“Who…?” You were still trying to get your grasp on what was going on. This strange man appeared to be cooking breakfast, and Connor was nowhere to be seen.   
Without turning around, “I’m Murphy. Murphy MacManus. I’m Con’s brother. He left a while back. Had to go ter work. Coffee?”  
“Um, yes. Thank you.”   
Connor hadn’t mentioned a brother last night, but then the two of you hadn’t plunged into any form of real detail about each other.   
Murphy had a lean build, and slight love handles that sat at the top of his jeans on either side. His hair was standing up in the back, and although his back was towards you, you could tell that he was smoking while cooking.   
You quickly scan the floor, looking for your cloths. You manage to clip on your bra right as Murphy turns around, carrying a chipped mug that was over flowing onto the dusty ground.   
His eyes were blue, crystal blue, the kind of color that women write country songs about. He had a beauty mark above his lip, and small wisps of hair trailing from his belly button deep into his jeans.   
“So, Rylee, do you like cream in your coffee?”  
He handed you the ceramic mug that only had half a handle and was full to the brim. The hot liquid inside was as dark and his hair.  
“Yes. That would be great.”  
“We don’t have any cream.” You look up at him from the mattress on the floor with one eyebrow raised.  
“I was just curious if you liked it.”  
You watched Murphy as he ran back over to the bacon, which smelled like it was beginning to burn. He clicked off the small stove, dumped the bacon into a bowl, rather than a plate, and took an increasingly long drag off of his half killed cigarette. Murphy stared at the bacon inside the bowl for a few seconds, almost as if he were contemplating what to actually do with it.   
Suddenly, he noticed you again, as if he had forgotten that he wasn’t alone.  
“Bacon?”  
“Do you actually have bacon, or are you just curious again?” Your remark comes off slightly harsh, but that was understandable, since that is the way that you meant it.   
Murphy looks across the shambled apartment and locks eyes with you, just long enough that you almost feel awkward looking at him for so long.   
“You know that I have bacon,” He quickly says with a smirk.   
“Then, yeah. Sure. That would be great.”   
Murphy picked up the bowl and strolls back over to sit at the end of your mattress. He sets the bowl between the two of you and picks up a piece that he quickly devours.   
“Did Connor say when he would be back?”   
“Ah, I think he works ‘til ‘bout seven or so? I don’t remember. I just got home, right before Con left. I was on the night shift.”  
You felt awkward, sitting on a dirty mattress in nothing but a bra and a blanket, but Murphy seemed completely unfazed. Was it common practice for him to find strange women naked in his apartment?  
You sip your black coffee, and choke a little on it.  
“This is…”  
“It’s shit. Yeah.” Murphy shoves another piece of bacon into his face.   
You can’t help but smirk at his bluntness.   
“How many times a week do you serve over cooked bacon and bad coffee to strange women in your apartment?”   
“You fishin’ to see how often Con brings strangers home? Not often, but it’s been known to happen from time to time.”   
Murphy was starting to make you feel more naked than even your lack of shirt was.   
“Few of ‘em look like you though, if that makes ya feel any better.”  
“That depends, are you saying most are better looking than I am, or that I am better looking than most.”  
Murphy looks up at you from his awkward bowl of bacon and shit coffee to smile a smile that was much higher on the left side of his face than it was on the right. His eyes were knowing and felt as if they burned through you, making you want to look anywhere but his clear blue gaze.   
“Probably the first one, honestly.”  
You smile because you think he’s being sarcastic, but the combination of his Irish accent and his slap-you-in-the-face bluntness makes you question your conclusion.   
“You live around here?” Murphy returned to his bacon and looked down at the bowl in his lap. He had tattoos scattered across his milk-toned skin; including a Virgin Mary on his neck identical to Connor’s; and hair much darker than that of his brother. His shoulders were lean and his collarbones protruded, but as he sat hunched over on the mattress, his stomach, which was thin while he stood, had doubled over into several small rolls, the last of which was peppered with a wispy black trail leading down into his jeans.   
“No. I was on the road. I met Connor in a bar last night. My ride stopped for some gas and I bailed.”  
“Hitchhiking?”  
“Yes. I had a car, but it died somewhere in Montana, so I left it behind.”   
Murphy didn’t look up while you spoke; he was rubbing the tattoo on his hand that read ‘Aequitas.’ He seemed uninterested in your brief hitchhiking story, and didn’t further pursue any questions about where you were from.  
“Do you want to go get some real coffee?”   
You looked from Murphy, to the chipped mug holding a deep sludge colored liquid before agreeing.   
Murphy picked up a crumpled t-shirt off of the concrete floor and pulled it on over his cow licked, bedhead. You immediately recognize it as the shirt Connor had been wearing the night before. He than plopped himself down on the mattress opposite yours, and began pulling on his heavy black, steal-toed boots.   
“Can you throw me my jeans?” You still sat on the stained mattress in nothing but a bra and a blanket.  
Murphy’s eyes shoot to yours, then to your jeans that had been messily discarded by the apartment door. He bites the bottom of his lip for only a moment, as if he were weighing his options to a serious moral dilemma. His view traces you once up and down.  
“Why? You think I’ve never seen a naked girl before? Go on, then. I’m not gonna watch.” Murphy then looked straight down and began pulling the thick laces on his boots tight.   
You pause for a moment, watching him tie the laces into knots, before swallowing hard and standing up. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of running across the room to your cloths, so you slowly wander over to the door, despite the blush spreading across your cheeks. You can feel his eyes on you as you pick up the pile of denim from the floor and start to pull them on, one leg at a time.   
You turn around just in time to catch Murphy jolt his head back down to his boots.   
You pick your black tank top up off of a card table littered with cigarette butts in the corner. “So, where to?”

 

The two of you slip out of the building into a brightly sunlit city. Murphy leads you around the corner as he pushes black sunglasses up the brim of his nose. He immediately starts patting his coat and jeans pockets looking for a stray pack of cigarettes, BIC lighter clenched tightly in between his teeth.   
“Son of a…” The patting had become more frantic and you waited with a slight bit of amusement on your face, before walking up to him and taking the lighter from his mouth. Murphy stopped and stared as you slowly ran your hand up the length of his arm and shoulder, finally stopping at his right ear. You locked your gaze with his, even through his shades, and Murphy started biting his tongue.   
You slowly pull the stray cigarette down from behind his ear, place it in between your lips, and cup your hand around the lighter as you inhale.   
When you look up and exhale, Murphy is staring at you with a mixed look of amusement and arousal. “Forgot about that one.”  
You hand him back the smoke, which he immediately throws up into his mouth, as the two of you begin to walk down around the block.   
“How old are you?” You asked more to avoid an awkward silence than to know the answer.   
“Twenty-Seven.” The number caught you off guard. He and Connor had to be extremely close in age. Although you hadn’t asked, you figured Connor was in his late 20’s.   
“And Connor?”   
“Twenty-Seven.”   
The street was now filled with people, and the two of you quickly push through several loitering crowds to cross the street where a large red sign read ‘JAVA.’   
“You’re twins?” The question escaped your lips before you could catch it and Murphy looked at you, confirming the stupidity behind your inquiry.   
The two of you had made it up to the counter of a very humid coffee house filled with people reading newspapers or chatting in corners. Murphy ordered the coffee and handed you a cup.   
“I had them put cream in it for you.”   
The two of you sat down on an overly cushioned loveseat set against the far wall, and you sit sideways to face Murphy, your right leg hanging awkwardly off of the couch.   
“What does it mean? Aequitas?” Murphy rubbed the bold calligraphy on his hand again and slipped his sunglasses up to rest in his mess of hair.   
“It’s Latin. It means justice.”   
“So, I take it that you’re not a big believer in Karma?” You sipped on your coffee, having the sweet taste dance across your tongue, and being grateful for the caffeine.   
“Justice is important. Holding men responsible, truly responsible, for their actions is a necessity.” This was the most serious you had seen Murphy be since you saw him puffing a smoke over burning bacon this morning.   
“That’s good, that you believe in something strongly like that. I’ve always kind of struggled with having strong faith in much of anything.”  
It was the truth. Religion, morals, the whole idea of right and wrong, all seemed slightly fuzzy to you when you thought too deeply about it. Your entire life had been a rather large mess of gray area. You had never had any problems realizing what you wanted out of life, you just tended to struggle with definitive opinions. It was always easy for you to get caught up in both sides of an argument.   
“You have to believe in somethin’. If you don’t how can you expect to know who you are?” Murphy took a long drink from his cup, nearly clearing it in a single swallow.   
“I know who I am. I just struggle with what I believe in.”  
Murphy polishes off the remainder of his coffee and stares at you as you continue to take small sips off of yours.   
“You’ll figure it out. It just may take ya some time.” Murphy looked as if he was examining you closely, as if you were some form of coding he needed to decipher.   
“In the meantime though, you have a great ass.”


	4. Elevator

You laid your arm across the disgusting card table and moved it in a sweeping motion; pushing empty beer cans and spent cigarettes into the bag less trash can.   
After you and Murphy had finished your coffee, the two of you had made your way back to the ‘penthouse,’ where Murph had immediately shed his boots and shirt, then laid down on his mattress; twisting himself into the fetal position.   
You probably could have used some additional Z’s as well, but there was an uneasiness that had come across your subconscious, so you began to do what you had always done while under any form of distress; clean.   
There was trash scattered across most of the apartment. You get the distinct impression that the boys were rarely in the apartment long. They seemed to both work and frequent McGinty’s more often than not. It was a safe assumption that Connor and Murphy were usually home just long enough to sleep and throw cans everywhere.   
The boys both seemed to definitely drink like all the Irish stereotypes would lead you to believe.   
You take the plastic trashcan over to the kitchen and start throwing away wrappers, some of which had almost morphed with the counter itself. As you cringe a little at touching the grease caked surface, you hear a small sigh from behind you.   
Murphy was asleep, moaning slightly as he rolled over. His knees where pressed up towards his chest, and his matted hair was sticking to his forehead. You realized that you were staring at him, and had been for a few moments now.   
He was beautiful. You knew it, and denying it to yourself now seemed a little pointless. His face had a rough appearance, yet was still somehow angelic. You found yourself intrigued by his striking lack of self-awareness, and his awkward, blunt comments that somehow managed to escape his mouth every time he opened it.  
In the coffee shop, Murphy had seemed interested in you, but not in the normal things that most men had always complimented you on. He never called you beautiful during your conversation, but instead gazed at you with an intensity that had made your breath quicken inside your chest. He never told you that you were too good for your parents when you eventually explained why you left home, all he said was that the only person you had to answer to was yourself.  
Murphy’s Irish accent and the way his light freckles were scattered across the width of his shoulders skated across your mind lustfully just as your heard the sound of the rickety elevator just outside the apartment door.   
Connor.  
You place the nearly overflowing trashcan on the floor and walked out into the hall, just as the elevator cage opened horizontally.   
Before you can manage to even get a ‘hello’ out, Connor’s mouth is covering yours. You kiss him back, quickly being reminded of how amazing the inside of his mouth tasted. When you pull away, your eyes are met with his deep hazel ones and a smile that already makes you feel even guiltier for your fantasy that you were having only moments before.   
“Sorry I took off on ya this mornin’. “   
“Murphy told me you went to work. Thanks for the heads up though, about you living with your brother, who may or may not have seen me naked this morning.”   
“Eh. Murph’s harmless enough, besides, you seem like you can take care of yourself.”  
Connor held on to your hips while he spoke to you, making you slightly sway with him. “Where is Murph? Sleepin’?”  
“Yes. He’s been down for about an hour or so,” You told him, making Murphy sound even more like the child that he so closely resembled while he slept.   
“That all? What were you two doing all day?” The question was presented as an innocent tease, but made your guts pang slightly. The two of you hadn’t done anything to be ashamed of, but then why did you feel an unreasonably strong desire to apologize to Connor?  
“We went for coffee, he burned bacon for me, the usual.”   
“Murph never could cook worth a shit.”   
You laugh then ask, “Should we go? Let him rest? Does he work again tonight?” Slightly hoping that he did.   
“Nah, I’m fairly certain he’s off. I am starved though. Let’s go.”  
Connor turned around and hoisted the upper part of the elevator door in the air, making the bottom drop down so the two of you could step inside.   
Connor pushed the down arrow that was covered in grime, “What sounds good? You’re not vegetarian are you?”   
You chuckle lightly and shake your head no. “I could go for pizza?”   
“Really? That’s Murph’s favorite.”   
Suddenly, the elevator came to an overly abrupt stop and you fall backwards against the metal cage.   
“Shit.”  
“What was that?” You asked, feeling your claustrophobia already taking effect. “Are we stuck in here?”   
“Yeah… It happens from time to time. It usually snaps back when someone calls the elevator. We’ll just have to wait.”  
“How many people live here?”  
“A few.”  
You were embarrassed to admit it, but claustrophobia had always been a chronic issue for you. The only reason you even agreed to ride this elevator in the first place was because there apparently were no stairs. This building was not up to code, to say the least. You were already concentrating on the rise and fall of your chest and imagining yourself never seeing the light of day again.   
Connor had slid down onto the elevator floor, rubbing his cheek with his palm, trying to decide exactly how much scruff was too much and whether or not he should think about shaving. His eyes flicked upward to you standing in the corner.  
“You okay, love?”  
“What? Yes. I’m fine.”  
Connor smirked and started cracking his knuckles absent-mindedly.   
“Wanna have a seat?”  
“Not really, no.”  
“Alright. It just might be a while. I don’t know about you, but I failed to get much sleep last night. Mind if I close my eyes for a bit?”  
You exhaled deeply and stare at Connor, a slight tinge of jealousy at his calmness on your face.   
“Fine.”  
You walk and slide your back down against the metal cage of the lift, and take your place next to Connor on the floor. Connor was leaning his head back against the wall, and had closed his eyes. You place the palms onto the rather disgusting floor, trying to steady yourself as you close your eyes as well.   
You sit there in the darkness behind your own eyelids for a minute or two before you feel something large and rough move over your hand. Thick, callused fingers link down inside of the spaces between your own. The weight of his hand on top of yours is steadying and you feel your breath start to come back to you.   
Your eyes still closed tightly, you feel Connor’s hand move off of yours, and slowly start to make the journey up the side of your thigh.   
You make a quick, sharp inhale of breath that has nothing to do with your claustrophobia.   
Connor’s hand had now pushed its way in between your legs and was moving up and down roughly, creating delicious friction inside your jeans.   
You let you a small whimper of pleasure and bite your bottom lip as Connor quickens his pace. The muscles in your legs begin to twitch and ache with every up and downward motion; your breath heavy and broken.   
You open your eyes and look down just in time to see Connor lean forward and unbutton your jeans. Connor climbs in between your legs and begins to pull off your jeans at a painfully slow pace.   
Once your jeans had officially been thrown into the corner, Connor took both of his hands and slowly spread your knees apart from one another. Your eyes look at his, but Connor is looking down at what is waiting for him. He leans slowly to his right and kisses your right kneecap, and then your thigh. He plants a trail of wet kisses as he makes his way down towards your center.   
Finally, his tongue makes contact, and you can’t help but snap your thighs upward around his ears. His tongue is thick and moves with rapid action. You run your fingers through Connor’s messy blonde hair and pull at it as you move your hips with the motion of his mouth.   
Connor contoured his tongue in ways that only a man with a vast amount of experience would know how. Just as you were losing yourself in Connor’s fluid motions, you feel him push two fingers in deeply.  
“Oh my god, Connor!”  
Your thighs tighten around him and you pull at Connor’s hair, directing his tongue. You inhale short, harsh breaths as you slowly begin to round the corner of climaxing.   
“Connor, fuck me. Now.”   
Connor emerges from your legs and looks up at you, a half smile painted across his face.  
“Nah, love. Fuck me. You, fuck me.”  
Connor crawls backward on his hands to sit against the opposite elevator wall, slipping his jeans around his lower thighs. Without argument you crawl after him on your knees, spreading your legs to sit over his lap.   
You lower yourself on top of him slowly, feeling his swollen mass fill you. Connor moans thickly accented obscenities as you begin to roll your hips against him, pushing yourself up and down while using Connor’s broad shoulders as leverage.   
Connor grabs a handful of your dark hair close to the scalp, and pulls quickly back, exposing your neck openly to him. He immediately attacks, gnawing at your neck and massaging the skin with his tongue.   
You gasp and feel nothing short of a flood emerge in between your legs. You ride Connor hard, rocking your hips viciously. Connor grabs your hips and slams you down, taking him all in. You cry out in unbelievably ecstasy as he repeats the action over and over again, driving you over the edge.   
You feel Connor’s thighs go ridged beneath you as you both continue to rock and kiss your way to completion.   
You rest your head against his shoulder as you both wait for your breath to return to you. You replace your pants without saying a word, and he pulls his back up and reapplies his belt.   
Connor pulls you by the arm and yanks you down on top of his chest. You gladly focus on his heartbeat rather than the still stuck elevator.   
“Close your eyes, Darlin’. We’ll be out soon.”


	5. The Kiss

Chapter Five:

You’re unsure how long you and Connor had been spread out across the dingy elevator floor. You felt the metal box jolt upwards and heard mechanical parts turning and moving together. You rub your face into Connor’s cotton t-shirt and inhale his natural musk deep into your nostrils. You quickly make the realization that you had drooled quite a bit on Connor’s chest.  
You look up just in time to see Murphy’s crooked smile and blue eyes come into view as the elevator reaches the fifth floor.   
“Cozy?” He was cupping his hand around his mouth, lighting a cigarette, his hair even more bed ridden than before.  
“Thank God! I don’t even know how long we’ve been in here.” Connor had opened his eyes from the floor next to you and stretched while the elevator came to a screechy, unsettling halt.   
“Well at least you were in good company.” Your eyes met Murphy’s and you almost thought that you saw a slight look of jealousy. He stared at you for a moment too long, and the hot mixture of guilt and lust had instantly reappeared deep in your gut once more.   
“Where were you going?” Connor asked Murphy while he heaved himself back into the standing position.   
“For pizza. I’m fuckin’ starved.” You can’t help but smirk as Murphy steps into the elevator.  
“Yeah, that’s where we were headin’ too, until the damn lift stopped.”  
Murphy’s eyes moved from Connor’s face to yours before he punched the downward arrow of the elevator and turned his gaze toward the ceiling. “How unpleasant that musta been.”   
You were fairly certain that you hadn’t imagined the bitterness in Murphy’s voice that time. 

The three of you walked out into a fairly deserted street and began to wander the ten blocks to a shabby pizzeria, stereotypically named ‘Tony’s.’   
The night air was chilled; much like it had been the night before back in the ally. Most of the streetlights were either flickering or burnt out completely. To say that the boys lived in a shady part of town would have been an improvement from where they actually resided. The gutters were practically overflowing with trash; the streets were made up of more potholes than they were asphalt, and around nearly every corner there tended to be a less than desirable man or woman lurking around a makeshift fire pit or grocery cart.   
However none of that bothered you. You strolled down the street in between two men who were both practically strangers to you, and you had never once felt more safe or secure in your life. The twins had washed over you like some sort of euphoric spell. You had all but forgotten your hitchhiking journey, and felt no desire to be anywhere in the world but exactly where you were: walking dodgy streets after dark with the MacManus brothers.   
The three of you walk into the rundown pizza parlor and take your seats in a round booth in the corner. You scoot yourself across the less than clean circular bench, Connor taking his place on one side of you, while Murphy sat close on your other. The boys both order up pints of beer, and Murphy rolls his eyes slightly when you order a Coke.   
Connor stretched his arms across the length of the booth and cracked his neck from side to side before smoothly settling in to enjoy his beer. Murphy could not have been more opposite in his actions if he had tried. His fingers were thumping rapid, rhythmic repetitions against the slimy pizzeria table; and he was chewing on the cigarette that was lying limply in the right corner of his mouth. He then quickly began stacking the salt, pepper, and Parmesan cheese shakers on top of one another.   
The three of you engaged in common banter, slowly exchanging non-essential facts about each other, trying to gain a better grasp of who you all were as people. Connor and Murphy worked at a meat packing plant, separating bits of animals from other bits. It wasn’t glamorous nor did it pay well, but it kept them in cigarettes and beer, and allowed them to bask in the luxurious studio apartment that they called home.   
You told them how you had been an only child, about how you had attended all private schools growing up, and how you had spent the majority of your life living in the suburbs next to Sam. You hadn’t exactly meant to mention Sam, but they were bound to hear about him sooner or later. When someone is such a big part of your life it becomes difficult to filter them out of stories, they worm their way into conversations without much effort.   
Sam Corey had been your friend, and later your boyfriend for as far back as you could remember. His parents had been friends with yours, and the two of you were all but betrothed from the time you started kindergarten together. You had started dating him sophomore year for no other reason besides that that was what was supposed to happen. Wasn’t it? You were supposed to date Sam? You went to prom with him, wrote for the school newspaper with him, applied to colleges with him, and everything was fine. Sam was fine. But that was all that he was, and all that he ever would be in your eyes.   
You had made the realization one night, laying naked between his sheets, feeling his body wrapped around yours. You imagined yourself leaving. Leaving everyone and everything, and the thought kept you up the entire night. The idea had festered inside of your brain and you couldn’t drop it. The idea of being on your own, of starting new, with no expectations hanging over your head, no disappointed looks when you didn’t live up to the hype that someone had made you out to be in their own head.   
Once you come to the realization that you can not only live without someone, but that you actually want to, it tends to put a pretty large damper on the relationship. You had always thought that you were in love with Sam, you had told yourself over and over, but had then come to realize that being in love with him wasn’t possible. He was nothing that you had ever dreamed about. You deserved more than Sam, and he deserved more than you.   
Connor and Murphy listened to your story intently, as if your words were the most important that they had ever heard. The feeling of someone paying that kind of attention to you, to have someone hang on every word that you said was new to you.   
Just as you were about to ask where the waiter was, a plump man in a horribly stained apron made his way over to your booth. He was carrying a very large peperoni pizza with the cheese still bubbling near the center.  
“Ah, our usual.” Connor polished off his beer and spoke into his glass.  
“You have a usual?”   
The man set the pizza in the center of the table. You had never actually seen someone have food brought to them without it having to be ordered. You thought things like that only happened in 70’s sitcom reruns based in local diners.   
You realize how hungry you actually are as the man slices your pizza at lightning speed. “Thank you.”   
“Grazie, Tony. Sembra incredibile.”   
You quickly turn your head toward Murphy. “You speak Italian?”   
“Tu fammi sapere se hai bisogno di qualsiasi altra cosa ragazzi.” Tony spoke back to Murphy than gave you a knowing smile before he turned his words to Connor. “Lei è una bellezza non è lei?”  
Connor gave you wicked smirk and you catch Murphy biting his lip through a half smile. “Sì Tony, che lei è.”  
Tony gave a small laugh and left the three of you to enjoy your meal.   
“What did he say? What did you say?” You could tell that Connor was enjoying the tease between you and played it off as if Tony had not been speaking about you during his prolonged gaze.   
The three of you devoured an entire pizza and you could feel the button on your jeans cut into your stomach uncomfortably. This was the most you had eaten in a single sitting in three weeks. You had forgotten the feeling of over eating, but tonight was a nice reminder. The boys had both seems slightly impressed that you weren’t shy about fighting Murphy for the last slice, and that you out ate Connor by a landslide.   
Murphy and Connor were both three pints deep when you asked Connor to stand up so you could make your way to the bathroom.  
“Oh, daring move. It’s scary in there.” Connor warned as you got up and began your journey across the small dining area.   
“More scary than your place?” You tease back at him.  
You rounded the corner of the dim lit hall and were walking toward the pale wooden door that was sporting a stick figure in a dress when you felt strong hand grasp your hips and pull you backwards.   
In an even quicker motion your body is spun around pushed into the hallway wall. Your eyes are staring down the crystal blue gaze of Murphy MacManus and you don’t even have a breath to spare before his lips make contact with yours.   
His tongue is cool and limber in your mouth, and you find yourself savoring the taste of him, the feeling of his lips moving wave after wave against your own.   
His hands are cupping your jaw, forcing your face upward. You run your hands across his rough five o’clock shadow and burry them deep in his dark locks.   
You let out a gasp that is a mixture of excitement and delicious surprise as he kisses you forcibly deeper, as if he has been starved for this moment for a lifetime.   
Then, it’s over as quickly as it had begun. Murphy’s tongue is absent from your mouth and he playfully bites your lip right as his mouth parts ways with yours. His hands let go of you and Murphy takes a small step back. He then turns around and starts to walk back down the hall.  
“What was that!?” You call after him.   
Murphy turns back around just before he rounds the corner back into the dining room. “I wanted to know what it was like to kiss you.”   
“And?” You ask, still in a slight state of shock.  
“I figure I’ll probably do it again.”


	6. Mating with MacManus'

Chapter Six:

You could feel the sun on your face before you opened your eyes. The apartment was always flooded with light spilling in from the skylight ceiling, starting with the moment that the sun rose. You were lying back to back with Connor; your shirtless skin stuck to his, your ankles locked to one another’s at the bottom of the mattress.   
A smile spreads slowly across your face as you feel the hand that was intertwined with yours. Without opening your eyes, you can smell the stale odor of cigarettes on his skin; you can hear the slow, raspy flow of air as he breathes in and out through his slightly ajar mouth.   
Finding his knuckles with your lips, you plant soft, quiet kisses down the tops of his fingers. You’re afraid to open your eyes, afraid that once you do, last night will be gone forever. The fear that the light of day and the boys’ ever-pending hangover would rip the three of you back into a harsh reality was almost too much to take. Although you knew you would have to open your eyes sooner or later, for this moment, you clenched them tightly closed and hold onto Murphy for dear life. 

 

The loft had been washed in moonlight when the three of you stumbled in. The elevator, nor the hallway, had lighting, which increased your fear of the shaky metal box ten fold.   
Connor had wrapped his arm around your waist as the elevator rose, and you had leaned your head back against his shoulder, watching the cherry on Murphy’s cigarette smolder brightly as he inhaled in the opposite corner.   
Being over whelming exhausted, you immediately drop onto Connor’s twin sized mattress and fling yourself backward to lie down.  
“Tired?” Murphy asked as he was making his way toward the rusted staircase in the far corner.   
“Understatement of the fucking century.”   
You had already closed your eyes when you felt Connor sit on the bottom of the mattress, listening as he threw one boot across the room, closely followed by the other. He pressed his body close to yours as he lay down beside you.  
You can feel his mouth on top of your ear as he whispers, “If you plan on staying much longer, we might want to look into investing in a bigger bed.”   
The statement caught you off guard. “Do you want me to stay?   
You hadn’t realized that you were imposing on both the boys’ lives without even asking their permission. The last thing that you wanted to do was leave. You had felt more alive in the past two day than you ever had back home, but at the same time you weren’t sure if either of them felt the same way about your presence. Plus, there was that looming elephant in the room, more present then ever, since Murphy had given you possibly the best kiss of your life less than an hour ago.   
“Psh,” Connor scoffs at your question, as if it were absolute shit.   
“I’m serious. I want to stay, here, with you and Murphy, but I don’t have money. I don’t have a job, I…” Connor stops you from speaking, grabbing your chin and pushing it up to meet him for a deep, passionate kiss.   
He slowly pulls away after a few moments; “We’ll work that out later. We’ll work everything out later.”   
You wrap your arm around Connor’s neck as he moves on top of you, slowly rocking a growing bulge against your hip as he removes your bra and playfully bites your neck. You are already attacking Connor’s straining belt and jeans before you remember Murphy.   
“Con, Connor. Wait. Murph? Won’t he come down soon?”   
“Nah, Love. Don’t you worry. He’ll be up there for a while. He likes it up there. He sleeps up there on warmer nights.” Connor spoke as he slipped a hand down between your legs. You were lost. He could have told you anything at that moment and you would have agreed.   
You arched your back and moaned as he pushed deeper inside of you, moving a third finger in. Connor bites your collarbone hard before slowly moving his head down, sucking at your chest and lightly biting your overly sensitive nipples; all the while still forcing his fingers deeper and upwards, hitting a beautiful bundle of nerves inside that drives you crazy.   
Connor is pushing you too close already. He seems to know your body so well, knowing exactly what to do, the places to hit and the speed to go to drive you into a sexually catatonic state.   
Before you lose yourself to him, you put both of your hands on his chest and shove him off of you with all of your might. He looks taken back for a moment, but then, without a word, you pounce on top of him, taking him all in your mouth in a sweet fluid motion.   
Connor immediately throws his head back against the mattress. “Fuck!”   
Your mouth moves quickly, building him up, making him more ridged by the second. You lightly scrape your teeth against his most tender skin and you hear an overly gratifying moan escape Connor from deep within his stomach. You quicken your pace, feeling Connor’s thigh muscles twitch harshly beneath your own legs.   
You had full intent on finishing Connor off with your mouth alone, but he had other plans. In a swift motion, Connor sits up and flings you off of him, and onto your knees. Before you even comprehend what is about to happen, you cry out loudly. Connor had flung himself inside you with a single, powerful thrust. That single force is enough to make your knees buckle and your arms give way as you drop your face into the mattress below.   
Connor grabs your hips roughly and pulls you into his pelvis over and over. You arch your back up screaming for him to go harder. You feel his thick hands grab a hold of your hair and pull it back, causing you to feel a delicious amount of pain mixed in with the mind warping pleasure.   
Connor taking you from behind, forcing himself into you with an animalistic vigor, was killing you. You loved it. You could smell the sweat, the sex, practically dripping off of him. You could feel his powerful hands pushing passionate bruises into your hips, but the single though that did it, the thing that pushed you to your breaking climatic point, was the thought of Murphy. Murphy and his tongue wrapped around yours.   
You’re crying out like you never have before, begging for more even as your orgasm rushes over you.   
Then you see him.  
Murphy was sitting there on the third step up from the bottom. Watching you come.   
“Murphy?” Your voice breaks as you say his name. Connor stops immediately, mid thrust. You wanted to jump up and throw your cloths back on. You didn’t want Murphy to see you like this, with his brother inside of you.   
But there he was, staring at you, while you were on your hands and knees, screaming Connor’s name.   
Connor didn’t move. He was watching Murphy too, waiting for a reaction. He still had you by the hips; he was still buried deep in your core.   
Murphy then stood up from his place on the stairs, slowly descending them until he reached the floor. You didn’t know what to do, you were waiting for his hurt reaction; waiting for him to flee the apartment to sulk; or maybe to start yelling about how you had kissed him outside of the bathroom. Murphy did none of those things. He slowly walked across the dusty floor, and dropped to his knees in front of you.   
Murphy grabbed you by the back of the head with both hands and kissed you the same way he had an hour before; strong and wet. He began pulling off his pea coat and your hands moved quickly to aid him in shedding his cloths.   
You pulled off Murphy’s jeans as if they were on fire. He then grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you down to lie on top of him as his back hit the hard concrete floor. You could feel your hot skin against his that was still chilled from the outside air.   
Murphy leaned his head upward and licked the length of your neck, making bumps rise all over your skin. Your eyes met and locked. You slowly reached your hand down in between his legs and grab hold of him, solid and ready. Murphy lets out a small cough as you stroke his over sensitive and stiff manhood. Murphy moves his hips upward in the slightest motion, telling you what he wants.  
Without ever breaking your eye contact, you slowly position yourself over him, and ease yourself down. You inhale sharply as you take all of Murphy in; he throws his head back against the floor, arching his spine upwards in pleasure.   
You begin to slowly move your hips; rolling them back and forth in a sweet, soft motion. You’re in love with the sound Murphy makes; gasping slightly every time you pull yourself up and let yourself back down. His right hand goes up and grabs your cheek; he’s biting his lip and won’t take his eyes off of you.   
“Oh god, faster.” You give in to his demand instantly and start pushing yourself against him harder, his left hand grabbing for your hip; directing you to the speed that he needs. The hand holding your cheek moves over and Murphy places two fingers in your mouth, you suck them gently and watch as he closes his eyes tight, panting with pleasure as you grind yourself down onto him, adding friction to the already tense experience.   
Then, out of the corner of your eye, you watch as Connor drops to his knees beside the two of you. He slowly pulls Murphy’s fingers from your mouth and kisses you hard, pulling you into it by the back of your head. Connor shoves his tongue in between your lips, making it clash against yours in a sloppy kiss. You instantly feel a beautifully intense ache form from between your legs. Having both men inside you at once was over powering.   
Connor than lets you go and pulls away. He slowly bends down and grabs Murph’s face, locking eyes with him before they begin to kiss wildly; all while you still rock against Murphy. Watching the two of them kiss makes you practically gush; and you grab onto Connor’s shoulder as lavage as you ride Murphy harder, making him cry out against Connor’s mouth.   
Connor, sensing that you and Murphy are both close due to the telling moans neither one of you can hide, stands up. Without words he asks you, and you nod, knowing exactly what it is he wants.   
Connor grabs you by your hair tightly, and begins thrusting himself inside your mouth. You take him all in, making your eyes water. His hips move ferociously as you lick him with every movement.   
Murphy has grasped your hips and is rocking you with a desperate furry. You can feel both men growing increasingly ridged inside of you.   
“Fuck, I’m close.” Murphy pants as he begins lifting his hips upward to meet yours, increasing the pace at which your bodies meet.  
“Aye,” Connor moaned to agree.   
You can’t even think, nor process the pleasure that is forming deep within you. Being able to feel both of them inside of you, growing ever closer to their peak, had you near tears of euphoria.   
Connor came first. You felt him empty, and continued to move your mouth against him, licking him while he enjoyed every moment of the blanket of ecstasy that had just dropped over him.   
Murphy was very close behind. You let go of Connor and looked down into Murphy’s bright blue eyes just as he gasped a deep breath and managed to cry your name through biting his lip. Seeing this, you finally let your self go, let yourself tip over the edge that you had been hanging on since Connor had taken you from behind.   
You cry out Murphy’s name and he quickly pulls you down to kiss him, as you let actual tears of pleasure drop down onto his cheeks. 

Connor had pushed to two twin mattresses together on the floor. You had gratefully climbed in between the two boys, anxious to let sleep finally find you. Just before you had drifted off, with Connor’s legs links around yours and your backs touching, Murphy had lain down with you face to face, and had kissed your forehead. 

Now you notice that Murphy’s breathing has changed; it’s quieter. As if he had closed his mouth and had restarted breathing through his nose. You decide to sneak a glace and slowly let your eyelids flutter open, grimacing against the bright sun above you.   
You’re met with the most beautiful blue eyes you had ever seen and a knowing smirk that you had already fallen in love with.   
“Morning.”


	7. The Shower

The next few days were spent with the three of you dancing awkwardly around the subject of what had happened between you. The sexual tension was thick in the air, and knowing, animalistic glances were constantly being exchanged.   
Murphy had taken to sneaking deep, tongue twisting kisses from you every chance he got, usually whenever Connor had his back turned.  
You were unsure of Connor’s feelings since the connection between you and Murphy had officially surfaced. You hadn’t had much time to talk to either of the boys alone. They both had been working consecutively together over the last 72 hours, and you had actually spent substantial time alone in the loft.   
The night before you had wandered the streets aimlessly until you recognized a specific block and headed towards McGinty’s. The bar was packed with men exchanging degenerate stories back and forth over large, frothing pints of beer.   
You had received several head turns, as you were once again the only woman in the place. Doc had smiled wide when you sauntered up to the worn, wooden bar.  
“What can I get for you, my dear?”  
“I was actually wondering if you needed any help around here? Cleaning? Inventory? Balancing accounts?”   
You didn’t exactly know what was happening between you and the MacManus brothers, but you knew that you were planning on staying in Boston until the three of you figured it out. You had become addicted to them within a matter of days, and the thought of walking away from Connor or Murphy was simply not in the cards.   
“I take it you’re plannin’ on stayin’ ‘round for a while then?”   
“I was thinking about it, yeah.” You smile with innocent flirtation at the old man as he wiped the bar with a mangy rag.   
“Well I could use you behind the bar from time to time if you’d like. You could help an old man around the place.”  
“That would be great! Thanks, Doc.”   
“Of course, pretty girls are always good for business.”-

You were sitting now in the middle of the mattresses, still shoved together, waiting for the boys to return. They were due back soon and you had officially run out of things to clean.   
The loft had made a minor transformation since the first night you had arrived. There were no more beer cans crushed and thrown into corners, cigarettes sat in ash trash on the table and kitchen counter, instead of wherever they happened to land after they had been extinguished. You had mopped the floor with an old rag and some pine sole, and had finally conquered the greasy film that sat on top of every surface of the kitchen portion of the large room apartment.   
The shower in the apartment was nothing more than a nozzle sticking out from the wall and a drain in the corner. There was a pathetic attempt at a shower curtain hug up on a bent metal rod that jutted out from the wall, which only went about half way around the ‘shower.’   
You jumped off of the mattresses and started peeling off your cloths and dropping them as you walked toward the drain in the floor. The boys would likely be starved when they came back, and you wanted to be showered before going out, since there was never any actual food inside the mini fridge that sat in the corner; just beer and a half empty ketchup bottle.   
The water sputtered and sprayed wildly in all directions, and was louder than any shower you had ever been in before. The water was chilled and made you instantly regret standing naked beneath it before you turned it on.   
After a rather grueling sixty seconds the water finally achieved a luke-warm status, which was tolerable to run soap across your hair and skin.   
You rubbed the $1.99 Men’s Best body wash across your face and stood beneath the rough water flow just as you felt two callused hands grab hold of your hips from behind. You instantly spin around and open your eyes, squinting through the burning soap.  
“Connor? You scared the shit out of me. I didn’t hear you come in.” You rub your eyes roughly under the spray, trying not to let on how much the cheap soap stung.   
“Sorry, Babe. Heard you in the shower, figured I could use a rinse down as well.” He starts gnawing at your neck from behind you and pulls you back into his groin, which is already stiff.   
It had been days since either of them had been bold enough to openly pursue you sexually, and you instantly welcomed the affection; turning and pulling Connor’s face down to kiss you amidst the rouge spraying water.   
You feel his hands grip your ass tight as he lifts you upwards, and you instantly lock your legs around his waist; Connor begins sucking at your chest vigorously.   
You hug your arms tightly around Connor’s head, biting your bottom lip as Connor tongues at your rising nipples.   
You were sucking Connor’s right ear, gently kneading it between your teeth when you feel light kisses being planted down the length of your spine.   
Murphy quickly moves his left hand around you, grabbing at your breast and groping it, making it even easier for Connor to suck deeply at the nipple with Murphy taking hold. Murphy bites your shoulder, leaving soft love marks across your pale skin.   
Your soft moans quickly make the change to a sharp gasp as Murphy’s right hand slides slickly under you and plants his two middle fingers inside, leaving the other two out to massage you as he begins moving his hand up and down at an ever quickening pace.   
Your pelvic muscles contract and ache as both Connor and Murphy kiss and bite your skin beneath the warm water. You can feel Connor, rock hard, rubbing against your skin as he still holds you tightly against his body.   
Suddenly, as if he was done with the anticipation the three of you had been sitting in over the last three days, Connor pushes past Murphy and slams your back into the wall, moving you down and entering you milliseconds later. Connor begins thrusting deeply, pulling you into him and moaning your name.   
You dig your fingers into Connor’s shoulder blades as he fucks you hard against the wall, much like he had the very first time the two of you had met. You can’t help but moan for him to give you more, to give you everything that he has, even as you catch Murphy’s eye, as he stands in the corner of the shower alone.   
His blue eyes look into yours and you feel as if he can see into your very soul. Water droplets sit on his pale shoulders and his near black hair is matted to his dripping face. He stares at you with a hunger that no one has ever shown you before. You want him; and you know that he wants you.  
You bite down on the corner of your mouth, trying hard not to cry out as Connor rocks against you, moving you up and down against him, driving you crazed with the growing friction between you.   
You reach your right hand out to Murphy and he instantly accepts, coming towards you across the puddled floor. You wrap your right arm around his neck and pull him into your mouth. Kissing Murphy is like no other high you had ever experienced. The second your tongue makes contact with his a hot knot forms in your stomach and he is the only thing you can see, hear, or feel.   
Murphy pulls at you, making Connor drop you back down to the ground. Murphy’s arms are wrapped around you and you moan harshly against his mouth as he continues to kiss you.   
“You’re everything, aren’t you?” Murphy whispers in your ear as he moves to sucking your ear lob. You run your hand across the length of his shoulders and bury your fingers deep in his thick locks as you catch Connor from the corner of your eye.   
“If this is going to work,” You begin, breaking Murphy’s suction lock from your ear, “then the two of you are going to have to pay a little more attention to each other. This has to be about the three of us. Not just Connor and me. Not just me and Murphy.”   
The boys eye each other cautiously, aware of what you’re asking and unsure if they are anywhere near drunk enough to accept you’re proposition.   
They were gorgeous there in that moment. Both of them naked, dripping wet from head to toe, wanting you, and each other.   
Murphy stood across from Connor, slowly stroking himself, pondering the situation before he made a move. Connor stood with his arms at his sides; breathing deeply, his eyes darting between you and Murphy. Murphy glanced at your from the corner of his eye before he moves towards Connor.   
In one swift motion, Murphy grabs a hold of Connor and begins working him between his hands wildly. Connor hesitates for a moment, but cups Murphy’s face and you watch as their tongues clash against one another’s in an open mouthed kiss.   
Your arousal reaches all new heights as you witness the two most sexually attractive men you have ever met pull and twist against each other beneath a now near freezing spout of water.   
You slowly approach them, though they don’t notice. Connor and Murphy have become lost in the moment and in one another. Connor pulls Murphy in tighter to him, their chests smacking together loudly. Murphy’s arm works feverishly, torqueing and massaging Connor to an impressive rigidness.   
You begin to kiss Connor’s shoulder and slowly push your way in between the boys, moving your tongue up the length of his neck. You take Murphy’s place around Connor’s swollen member and rub your thumb gently over the tip, making Connor moan lightly and throw his head back towards the ceiling. Murphy’s hands quickly venture between your legs to push deep inside you once more, causing you to wince in pleasure and pull at Connor with more vigor.   
Connor’s tongue finds its way to yours and twists inside of your mouth deliciously. Murphy buries his face deep into your neck and begins sucking gently. You feel yourself flood beneath your legs and realize that you need them to be with you, to be inside you.   
“Connor.” You say his name simply and your eyes meet. He knows exactly what it is that you need. Connor looks over your shoulder and gives a knowing nod to Murphy.  
In unison, the both turn you around and force you downward. Connor enters you with a deep thrust and you cry out gratefully. Murphy gently moves your chin upward and offers himself to you. You accept and force all of him into your mouth at once.   
You move your mouth against Murphy with the same rhythmic motion to which Connor is moving into you from behind. Murphy lovingly pushes your dripping hair from your face and holds your cheeks as you take him in. Connor is thrusting at a painfully slow pace compared to your previous encounters with him, almost as if he were attempting to tease you with what he knows you need.   
You temporarily move Murphy from your mouth, “Fucking harder; both of you.”   
In an instant both men plunge into you with a mind-blowing urgency. You would have screamed, had you had the capability. With every thrust from Connor and Murphy you feel yourself moving closer to that white-hot light that would soon push you into near hysterics.   
Connor grunted harshly as he continues to slam himself into you, “I’m going to…” As he trailed off, you could feel that Connor was about to hit his peak. Murphy was growing thicker in your mouth and you had begun to taste the beginning of his climax.   
You quickly move your right hand around the back of Murphy and let a stray finger gently push him to exactly where you and Connor both already were.   
“Fuck!” Murphy unloaded just as you feel yourself coming all over Connor. The three of you all slow your pace softly down. You stand up and Murphy’s mouth is already waiting for you. He throws a hand up into your hair and pushes his tongue past your teeth. You wrap your hands around Murphy’s waist and back, holding him close to you as you hear Connor turn off the frigid water. 

After the three of you had dressed, you make your way out to the damn elevator so that you may join the other pedestrians of Boston below.   
“Shit, I forgot the smokes.” Murphy runs a hand through his messy hair as he darts back down the hallway into the loft.   
You rest the back of your head against the concrete wall as Connor pushes the call button a third time. “It’ll come eventually. Pushing the button won’t make it happen any faster.”  
Connor glances at you from over his shoulder and smiles. He then turns around to stare at you while he leans against the opposite wall. His look is knowing, and slightly remorseful.   
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Connor’s hazel eyes locked deep into yours.  
“He’s falling in love with you, you know.”


	8. An Escort Home

Chapter Eight:

This Friday night was just like the previous four you had spent in McGinty’s; full to the brim with Boston’s beautifully flawed working class. The men filtered in after leaving a long week of miscellaneous factory work, ready for a few beers and to innocently proposition you after they had finished them.   
The bar always got rowdy around 9PM, Tom O’Neil liked to make a weekly, drunken ritual of reminding Bill White that he had had his way with Mrs. White years before they had wed, usually leading to a slurred exchange of obscenities being throw back and fourth and eventually escalating into a full fledged bar brawl.   
The men that frequented McGinty’s were mostly harmless enough, with the serious exception of the Russian Mob soldiers that liked to stroll in about once a week. Usually showing up in sets of two or three, these thick speaking, even thicker built, men liked to show up and threaten Doc; whether it be about buying up his rental properties, or attempting to bully him into purchasing ‘protection’ from them.   
Tonight, you were rinsing the sticky residue of Amaretto from a glass when you saw them walk in.   
In the few weeks since you had started working at the bar, you had already successfully memorized most of the regulars and in return had gained acknowledgment from them as well, which was definitely helping you pay your way through tips.   
The same, unfortunately, could be said about Ivan.   
Ivan was roughly 6’5, and had to be at least 300 pounds, and the light shown off of his well-kept, bald scalp. He had noticed you the first night you had started work, as he stormed in demanding that Doc could not renew his lease of the building in which McGinty’s resided. Doc had done his usual bit of telling him to go fuck himself, and then you had caught his eye.   
You had tried to appear overly occupied with wiping down bar booths, but Ivan had strolled straight up to you and had grabbed your left ass cheek with thick, sausage like fingers. His proposition fell on disgusted ears as broken English tumbled from his mouth. You had kindly told him that he had a better chance at fucking his henchmen than he did fucking you.  
Tonight Ivan was only toting one pit bull of a man with him. This guy had a handle bar mustache that every 70’s porn star had dreamed about having. His shoulders were wide and his eyes were squinting hard, as if he were possibly blind as a bat but would rather shoot himself in the head than let glasses ruin his up and coming status in the mob.   
Ivan was harassing Doc down at the other end of the bar. You eyed them carefully in your peripheral vision, but you knew that Doc was fully capable of taking care of himself. Doc was a war vet, and was pushing 80-years-old, and as much as his kind eyes had won your heart the very first night you had arrived in Boston, you had learned quickly that the old man was not one to be taken lightly.   
Doc had successfully told the Russians once more exactly where it was they could go; and the handle bar mustache toting gentleman began heading for the door, but Ivan was walking towards you, sliding his hand across the bar’s sticky surface.   
“You know the Russians pay you much more than fucking mick bartender can.”  
You slowly put the glass down and look up into Ivan’s thick, puckered face, “True. Unfortunately I don’t have sex for money, Ivan, and even if I did, the mob doesn’t fucking pay you enough.”   
The smile Ivan gave you had infuriated you to your very core as he turned and slammed back through the heavy wooden front door.   
Around 3AM Doc had finally announced last call. Last call at McGinty’s was never at the same time. Over the last few weeks you had seen it vary from 10:30PM to nearly 5 in the morning. You quickly figured out that the bar was open as late as Doc wanted it to be.   
Slowly the men trickled back out into the street and began wandering their ways home. You had grabbed a tot and were walking around gathering up abandon glasses from tables when you hear Murphy’s voice.   
A smile instantly makes a home across your face as you turn around and see him trying to squeeze in the door as Doc tries to lock up.  
“We’re closed boy.”   
“Aye, I know, Doc. I came to escort that one over there home.” Murphy pointed a finger at you from across the bar.  
“Alright, Alright. Lock the fucking door on your way out.” Murphy laughed as Doc slowly made his way up the stairs to his apartment above the bar.  
Murphy grinned wide as he hopped over a stray chair like a child, and bounded across the floor to plant a messy kiss across your lips.   
“Someone’s not sober,” you tease as you turn to grab the rest of the empty pints.   
“Someone sure as hell isn’t.” 

The last few weeks had been nothing short of life changing. You had embedded yourself into Connor and Murphy’s world as if the three of you had always been together right from the very start. From the time you woke up in the morning, sandwiched tightly between them under a mess of covers, to the nights when you were pulling Murph’s boots off his feet once he had passed out across the mattress; you were sure you had found where you were always meant to be.   
The boys went to work at the meat packing plant, and you cleaned up after Boston’s backbone. The three of you went your separate directions each day, but always fell back into one another once you were reunited.   
Your relationship with the boys was not one that could be summed up lightly. You doubted you could put it into a rational explanation even if you threw your love for them under a microscope.   
You loved them both for different reasons. Connor was a dreamer, and was always looking at life through a highly optimistic view. Murphy was a realist, but was also passionate to an over whelming extent; and was always enticed by anything new.   
The two of them had shown you a life that you never would have found in your suburb back home. A life that was dirty, and paycheck-to-paycheck, but at the same time was exciting and slowly bringing you increasingly closer with Connor and Murphy as each day passed.   
You knew that things couldn’t stay this way forever. You knew that at some point, the day would come when one of you would no longer be content in a relationship split three ways. Some day, you knew, one of you was going to need more.

Murphy laid long ways across the bench of a booth that sat in the far right corner of the bar. “Do you really have to finish all those? Fuck.”  
You chuckled lightly to yourself.   
Murphy always seemed to become two things when drunk: Horny and juvenile.   
He kicked his feet against the hard wood floor, in a half impatient tantrum, and groaned as you started wiping down another table.   
“I didn’t ask you to walk me home,” you tease.  
“Well, what can I say, I missed you.” Murphy was staring up at the ceiling as he spoke.   
“I’m almost done, okay?” You wiped down your last table and decide to finish with the glasses before the bar reopened tomorrow. “Where is Con, anyway?”  
“Eh, he pulled a double. Bart, at work, he ate some bad eggs or some shit, fucking puked his guts out all over in the bathroom. They sent him home and Con stayed for him. Fucker could have at least thrown up out by the meat so that we could have all gone home while they cleaned up.”   
“You’re right, how inconsiderate of him.” You had finished and were sitting on the side of the pool table that took up the majority of the open space in the bar. You watched Murphy dangle his left leg straight out and shield his eyes from the bright lights above the booth with his arm.   
After a few more moments of you waiting to see how long he would lay there, Murphy finally sits straight up and looks around before spotting you on the edge of the pool table.   
“How long have you been done?”  
“Oh a while now, I was just waiting on you.”  
A wicked smile spreads across Murphy’s cheeks as he stands up and dashes over to you. He playfully bites your neck and grabs your sides in an attempt to tickle you. You return the tickle attempt briefly, but just like they always did, your lips quickly found his and Murphy pulled you by your hips closer to him as you twirled a lock of his hair in between your fingers.   
You slowly break away from the kiss, parting only far enough that the tips of your noses are still touching. You stare into his blue eyes, searching for the answer to a question that neither of you are willing to ask out loud.   
Connor wasn’t there.   
You both knew it. You both were thinking it. You break your eye contact with Murphy and look down. You’re unsure of what should happen next. Honestly, you had been half-heartedly avoiding this exact scenario for weeks. Being left completely alone with Murphy. Although you had no intention of voicing your fear, you were terrified that if you were with Murphy, just with Murphy, that that would be the end of the fine balance the three of you had somehow slipped into.   
Murphy read your mind, like he always did, without you speaking a word.  
“We should probably go home. I’m drunk.”   
You caress Murphy’s rough cheek, reaching up to finger his dark locks once more. “Okay.”  
You kiss Murphy’s wispy facial hair that speckled across his face, and hopped down from the side of the pool table. You’re holding Murphy’s hand attempting to lead him to the door to begin your journey back to the loft. However, Murphy resists.   
In a harsh movement, Murphy pulls you back into him and attacks your lips in a whirlwind of open-mouthed passion. His hand grabs wildly at your hair and he begins sucking hard on your neck while he pulls at your jeans like a maniac.   
“Baby, I thought we were going home,” you whisper between passionate gasps while you help him remove your cloths.  
“Yeah, well, I’m drunk.”   
You fling Murphy’s black pea coat from his shoulders with both your hands and rip open his jeans as if your life depended on it. There was no way either of you could have stopped, even if you had wanted to.   
The two of you together, alone, had become so taboo. You both were so loyal to Connor. Connor, who you both always wanted. However, Murphy inside of you, Murphy with you and only you, was a fantasy that had kept you up at night.   
Murphy grabs your ass with both his hands and positions you on the edge of the pool table, then tosses your legs around his waist, as if he had played this scenario over and over in his mind a thousand times.   
You glance down and see him, in all his ridged glory, sitting at the peak of your entrance, as if waiting to receive permission to enter. You look upwards into his sensual blue gaze, both of you knowing that this is it, the point of no return.   
You both pant in unison, almost dying under the weight of the anticipation that this moment has built up between you. You bite your own bottom lip, and sneak a small, peck of a kiss against Murphy’s mouth before returning to stare into his blue trance.   
“I love you.” The expression escaped Murphy’s mouth, and you both knew that those three words could now never be taken back.   
Murphy grabs the back of your neck with his right hand and pushes your mouth into his; timed perfectly with his pelvic thrust that forces himself into you in a fluid motion.   
You hug his waist tighter between your thighs as Murphy pumps himself into with a forcefulness that can only come with the satisfaction of finally tasting your own personal forbidden fruit.   
You watch as Murphy looks down, watching himself being buried deep inside of you over and over, as if it were the most magnificent thing he had ever seen. You grab his chin and pull his eyes upward to look into yours. You want him with you during this, truly with you.   
You place your palms on the felt of the pool table and crab crawl backwards across the table’s surface; removing Murphy from within you. Without missing a beat, Murphy quickly abandon’s his work boots on the floor and crawls on his hands and knees after you, pushing billiard balls out of his way as he went, and laying across the top of your body, reentering you at a torturously slow pace.   
You roll your hips against his body, moving with him in perfect unison; your bodies, if only for a moment, were becoming a single living, breathing thing. You were connected, in the truest possible way two people can ever be.   
“Oh, god.” Murphy nuzzles deep into the curve of your neck as he rocks his body against yours, letting himself go and allowing himself to melt into you. Your mouth finds Murphy’s shoulder and you gently plant love bites across his freckled skin.   
Murphy pushes deep-throated moans into your ear as he pants heavily. You lift your ass off of the felt table with each and every thrust, meeting him half way and forcing Murphy to go deeper and deeper into your core.   
The build up inside of you is almost more than you can physically take. You have wanted this moment for so long, and as Murphy calls your name between each and every pelvic push, you realize that this is more than you ever could have imagined.   
“Baby, I need you. I need you to come for me.” You grab a hold of Murphy’s thick hair as his pace doubles in speed at once. You cry out from both pleasure and surprise.   
Murphy throws his left hand up onto the side of the pool table, and uses it as leverage to pull himself faster and faster into you. You are practically screaming his name now as you throw your legs back around Murphy’s waist and lock them with your ankles. You can feel him growing inside of you with each and every push and you are grateful because you don’t know how much longer you can put off your thunderous climax that is tying near painful knots deep in your gut.   
“Oh mon dieu. Je t'aime putain.” Murphy is moaning unintelligible French as he bites down hard on your shoulder; caught up in a euphoria that neither one of you ever want to break out of.   
“Murph, baby, I…” Before you can even finish your sentence you explode inside and lose the ability to think, let alone speak. You cling to Murphy’s shoulders, damp to the touch in glistening sweat, as he cries out in a language that you can’t possibly pick up on in your current mental state.   
You both are struggling to breathe, but cannot help but allow your tongues to intertwine and dance between your two mouths.   
Murphy lays on top of you, practically shaking from the cosmic blackout he had just endured, as the two of you wait for your breath and life to return to you. You look into his face; his face literally dripping in sweat and hair plastered to it.  
“I love you too.”


	9. The Funny Man

Chapter Nine:

You slammed the taxi door shut as Murphy leapt out from the other side of the car. You were up to the heavy front door of McGinty’s just as Murphy caught up to you; playfully biting your shoulder through your thin sweater.  
“Was it really worth the money you spent on a taxi? You know we should have just walked” You say, as you pause at the door and lean your head back into Murphy, letting the night’s air twirl his natural scent around you.   
“Baby, I would have paid a lot more than I did for that car ride.”   
You immediately turn around and throw your arms around his neck, linking them at your wrists. Your lips touch and you instantly feel like the world has stopped; the cars don’t honk, the homeless guys aren’t fighting around the corner, Boston’s many factories just halted production, and you’re fairly certain the world it’s self could have stopped it’s never ending rotation as soon as you feel his tongue slip into your mouth.   
You savored every kiss you stole with Murphy. Every chance the two of you found yourselves alone, you practically ran to each other from across rooms. The two of you found yourselves rushing home to be together for a mere 15 minutes before other obligations would arise, and you would kiss each other each and every time as if you had to stop you might actually cease existing.   
As the two of you entered the bar, the smell of alcohol was strong enough to nearly knock you over. The place was packed tonight due to factory lay offs. Men who were now out of work had poured in, attempting to drown their sorrows before hitting the unemployment line the following morning.   
You quickly spot Connor and David Della Rocco over in the far corner booth as you and Murphy zigzag your way through the crowd.   
“Hey, Darlin’!” Connor stands up from the booth and places his hand on the back of your head as he leans in to kiss your cheek. You can tell he is already several beers in by the rosy skin that has made a home across his high cheekbones.   
“Con, babe how was it today?” You sat down next to Connor and scooted across the bench in the round booth, making room for Murphy to scoot in after you.   
You had heard about all the lay offs that had taken place across the city today. Men were losing their jobs in droves due to budget cuts and shit economy. Murphy had come home this evening with a relieved look across his face that he, for the time being, was still employed. Connor however was just learning his fate when Murphy was leaving the meat packing plant, telling him to meet us at the bar once he left.   
“Aye, I’m fine. Still get to pick dead animals apart for another day.” You lean against Connor and kiss his cheek in relief. The three of you were so broke; the thought of any of you losing income at this point was slightly terrifying.   
Rocco was drinking deeply from a pint glass, a slight drizzle of beer running down onto his white V neck t-shirt.   
“You’re leakin’ Roc.” Murphy says as he lights a cigarette.   
“Fuck. This was my last clean shirt.” Rocco held his shirt out to better examine the damage.   
“Roc, that shirt wasn’t clean before you dumped beer down the front. Do you need help with your laundry? I’m doing ours tomorrow. I can pick yours up too.” You take Murphy’s lighter that he’s extended to you, and steal the cigarette that is living behind his ear.   
“You don’t gotta do that, Ry.”   
“It’s not a problem, Roc. I don’t mind.” You inhale deeply as you light your cigarette, an instant feeling of gratification rolling down you as you let the smoke roll past your lips.   
“I need a drink. What do you want?” Murphy jumps out of the booth, talking through his smoke that is hanging limply out of the corner of his mouth.   
“Coke, please.”  
“Unbelievable.” Murphy rolls his eyes at you and starts to make his way to the bar.   
“I need another as well, I believe.” Connor says as he attempts to stand up in the center of the bench. You go to scoot over and let him out, but before you can make it Connor is already half way across the table, knocking over empty glasses before leaping triumphantly onto the bar floor.   
You laugh as you watch Connor trip while attempting to catch up with Murph while heading towards Doc at the bar.  
“You not workin’ tonight, I assume.” Rocco asks as he goes to take another drink.  
“Safe assumption.” You smile before taking another drag. “Doc gave me the night off, I think he’s probably regretting that decision right about now though.”  
Rocco was Italian, and worked as a package boy for the Boston’s sector of the Italian mob. He had been running errands for men that treated him no better than dog shit since he was 18-years-old. Apparently he had hooked up with Murphy and Connor as soon as they had immigrated to Boston several years back, though you never could get a straight answer out of any of them about how they had actually met.   
He had thick brown curls that fell over his face, making him constantly pushing hair from his eyes; which were so dark brown that half the time you couldn’t tell where his iris’ ended and his pupils began. Rocco had a thick laugh that made you feel warm whenever you heard it, and genuine devotion and love towards the boys; something you both had very much in common.   
“He don’t know, does he?” Rocco had put his glass down and was leaning back against the booth.  
“Who? Who doesn’t know what?” You were actually pretty unaware what he meant.  
“Connor.”  
“What about Connor?” You turned your head to see Murphy and Connor laughing at something together while waiting their turn at the over crowded bar.   
“About you and Murph.” You slowly turn your head back to face Rocco, making eye contact with him through his hair, which was once again covering the majority of his vision.  
“What about us? Roc, what are you getting at?”   
“Don’t bullshit me, okay? You’re fucking him, right?”  
You bit your lip. “Roc…”   
“Which is odd because I know that you’re fucking Connor. He told me.”   
“He knows, Roc, okay? We’re in a, kind of, three-way relationship. Do you know what I mean?” You blushed a little bit just listening to the words coming out of your own mouth. You were more than content with the decisions you had made with the boys, but to have to explain them to someone outside of the three of you, all of a sudden seemed painfully awkward.   
“Huh.” Rocco looked at you for a long time and then leans his head slightly to the right to stare back at Connor and Murphy who were still waiting on drinks. “Alright, then he doesn’t know that you’re fucking just Murph.”  
Rocco returned to drinking deeply from his glass.  
“What? Why would you say that? I have slept with Connor, like, have seriously slept with Connor. “ Your voice began to shake a little bit as you desperately tried to convince Rocco of something that he already was sure of.   
“I didn’t say you didn’t sleep with Connor. I said, Connor doesn’t know that you sleep with Murph, when he’s not around. “ You stare at Rocco. Things had just taken an overly awkward and truthful turn.   
“I don’t, Roc.” The lie fell flat, and that was all you had.   
“You must be the fucking real deal, to have them both head over heels like that.”   
“Not really. I’m nothing special.” You stare at Rocco with an annoyance that you’re sure is visible on your face. “But they are.”   
You turn back around and see Murphy and Connor consoling a man who must have been laid off, his face beaming red from a dangerous combination of rage and liquor.   
“I love them, Roc, and I know you do too. You know what it’s like to be a part of the electricity that they bring to life. They’re addicting. You may not be fucking them, but I know that you would die for them, and that’s something that we both have in common.”   
“I know that you love ‘em. That’s apparent every time either of them speaks and you hang on their words like their goddamn prophets. The issue here is that they both love you, and Connor is going to ultimately end up eating shit on this deal.”  
“Why? We’re happy, the three of us. We have a good life together. We have had for months now.” You couldn’t help but jump on the defensive. Rocco had no idea what it was like, what the three of you were like together; the perfect unison the three of you fell into while entangled.   
“Because some day, it will end. It will come time for you to choose between them, Connor or Murphy; and Connor will take the fucking short end, because you sure as shit won’t be picking him.” 

Less than an hour earlier, Murphy had bounded into the loft, found you napping, and had no hesitation before leaping on top of you. You had never been a person who woke in a good mood, especially while startled, but you saw Murphy’s baby blues and fell into him; a mess of tongues where no one could guess where his ended and your began.   
“Come on, I called us a taxi. We’re meeting Con at McGinty’s.” Murphy pulled away from you and practically jumped off of the worn mattress.  
“Ugh. Where do you get this kind of energy?” You quickly roll back over and bury your face.   
“Excuse me for being a little relieved that I get to keep my shit job for another week. What if I got laid off? What if we had to say good bye to all this?” Murphy spread his arms wide and spun in a quick circle around the apartment.   
“What if I could no longer keep you in this lap of luxury that you have so quickly become accustom to?” Murphy dropped his arms and stared at you as you peaked up at him from beneath one of the old blankets. “Then what would you do?”   
The question had somehow taken the turn to legitimate.   
“I would live out of a fucking box as long as you lived there with me.” You sat straight up and looked him dead in the eye as you spoke, wanting to erase any insecurities far from his mind.   
“You would?” Murphy asked again, with a small nod, never breaking your eye contact.   
“I would.”   
“Good.”  
A car honked from somewhere on the street below.  
“My lady, I do believe that is our ride.” Murphy walked over to the bed and offered you his hand, impersonating British royalty as he spoke.   
As you exited the building, a rusted, yellow, bucket of a taxi was waiting at the corner. The sun had already set and a chill was settling deep in the air.   
“Babe, we don’t need a car, really. We can walk. It’s not that cold.” You turn to Murph, appreciating his act of chivalry, but really being okay with walking in the cool night air.   
“Will you just get in the damn car?” Murph walks over to the taxi and yanks the back door open for you.  
You give him a slight eye roll before crawling inside of the shabby cab.   
Murphy slams the door shut behind you before running around the back of the cab to jump in on the other side.  
“McGinty’s on Brimstone? Hey, uh, but take Lavenbrook instead? I heard Jefferson is backed up. Thanks.” Murphy spoke to the driver, and without receiving an answer in return, the car began to move.   
He slipped backwards into his seat as he casually linked his fingers between yours.   
Night had settled well within less than 60 seconds. The street lamps were practically non-existent in this part of town, so the taxi was all but black inside, with the exception of the car radio.  
“Hey, you wanna turn that one up?” Some catchy pop song had just begun and the man turned it up near blaring.   
“What? You don’t know this song…” Before your criticism could even escape your lips, they were covered with Murphy’s and his fingers were deeply imbedded in your hair.   
Murphy roughly, and without any coy warming up, grabbed at the crotch of your pants and worked his hand up and down, pushing hard to create shocking pressure.   
Without a moment’s hesitation, you do the same, rubbing and stroking his denim sheltered shaft as you bit hard on his bottom lip.   
Your eyes dart quickly to the driver as Murphy yanks down your pants around your knees in a swift motion. “He can’t fucking see us, you look at me.”   
You immediately obey and look deep into his eyes that all but glowed in the dark cab. You could hear him fighting against his belt, and assisted him with pulling his jeans down around his thighs, letting his aching member escape and stand solid at attention.   
With both of your pants successfully half off, Murphy grabs blindly at you and pulls you onto his lap. You throw your right arm around the back of his neck and across his shoulders, grabbing at the ceiling handle of the car with your left.   
You lift yourself up as Murph guides you down on top of him, while you both let delicious sounds of relief escape from deep within. Again you look up to the front towards the driver, who’s eyes were on the road and seemed truly none the wiser.   
Your body instantly granted you more than enough natural lubrication the second that Murph buried his teeth into that tender part of your neck. You groan into his hair as you pull yourself up and down, using the back seat and handle as perfect leverage.   
Murphy was guiding your hips with his hands, rocking you back and forth against himself as you pull yourself up and let yourself fall back down on top of him.   
There was something exciting and erotic about trying to play beat the clock against the driver, against the traffic. The car rounded corner after corner and you rode Murphy harder and jerked your hips faster against him; quietly caught in a personal mission to make him come before the driver could reach the bar.   
You lean your face down to kiss him. Your mouths are sloppy, not being able to concentrate on the kiss, due to the epic pelvic passion happening currently between you.   
You look out the window and realize that your time is quickly escaping you. The two of you will be reaching the bar in a few short minutes.   
You drop yourself down harder, grinding into Murphy’s lap, driving him wild as he throws his head roughly against the seat. He’s panting hard and you know that he’s getting there; he’s approaching your end goal. You suck his ear lob as he aids you by lifting your ass cheeks up for you as you lift off of him with every thrust.   
You want him to climax, you need him to. You know that as soon as he does, and you see it; see that look in his eye, here him gasp your name in the dark, that you will fall victim to an orgasm that will leave you physically shaking.   
Murphy leans over and licks your neck as you grind, fueling your sexual desire even further as you pant his name out loud.   
“Do you love me?” Murphy’s voice is strained. He’s too close to his end to properly get the words out.   
You stop biting your bottom lip long enough to answer. “Baby, you know I do.”   
Murphy is now yanking your hips down and pushing them back up, desperate for you to go faster than is even physically possible.   
“Tell me. Say it.”   
Sweat is glistening all over Murphy’s face as the cab passes the main drag that houses the bar, well lit with other local businesses.   
“Say it!”   
“I love you, Murphy. God, I love you so much.” The last of your sentence trails off as you feel yourself give in to the orgasm you knew was coming. You nearly choke for air as you feel Murphy gush inside of you.   
Before either of you even have a spare moment to catch your breath he slides out from you and pulls you down into him, cradling your head against his shoulder and planting soft kisses across your cheeks and mouth.   
“I’ll always love you.” He whispers, just as the cab pulls to the side of the curb. 

Connor had returned with another round, with Murphy trailing behind him, holding your Coke.  
“I want you to know the fucking looks I got from all those guys at the bar when I fucking ordered a soda.” Murphy was chewing on the end of his now extinguished cigarette, as if he had forgotten to put it out, but had smoked it well into the filter.   
“Awe, poor guy.” You tease with sarcasm as you take the dark liquid and ice out of his hand.   
Connor climbs back across the top of the table to resume his place between you and Rocco before you can escape out of the booth to let him back in.   
“And what was it that you two were talking about?” Connor asks as he pulls a smoke out of a half empty pack sitting in the center of the table.  
You eye Roc dangerously, warning him without words to choose his answer carefully.   
“Oh nothin’ really. Just tellin’ Rylee some jokes. You know, I am the funny man.”


	10. Sandy

Chapter Ten:

The elevator creaked as it slowly took you up to the fifth floor.   
You had just gotten off of an overly painful shift at the bar. Your feet ached, your lower back felt like it was on fire, your hair reeked of cigarettes, and there was light blood splatter across your shirt from when patron felt another had hustled him at pool.   
You were looking forward to going home; looking forward to crawling next to Connor and watching the moon above the building move across the sky until your eye lids finally slid closed.   
Murph was working the grave shift for the next three nights, so you and Connor had the beds to yourself.   
Things had been a little strained between Connor and you. He was fine as long as Murphy was present. In fact, even though you didn’t dream it possible, the sex between the three of you had even gotten more pleasurable; but whenever you found the two of yourselves alone, it was as if you had things you needed to say, but neither of you dared start the conversation.  
You slide the metal door to the loft open, and hang your bag next to the hooks that usually hold boys’ rosaries. The lights were on, which came as a slight surprise. It was well after four in the morning, and you were sure Connor would be asleep already. He hadn’t stopped into the bar after his shift at the factory, so you had just assumed he had headed straight home.   
“Con?” You slide your jacket off of your shoulders and placed it on the card table. That was when you noticed the beige pumps tossed aside in the corner.   
You were definitely not a heels type of girl, in fact you had mostly worn boots or converse every day since middle school.   
You turned your head and quickly scanned the remainder of the small apartment. You didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, until you looked up. The hatch that leads to the roof of the building was open at the top of the metal stairs. You could see the stars scattered in the deep velvet sky above as you gripped the black metal stair rail and slowly began to climb.   
As you came closer to the top of the stairs, you could hear voices. One was a woman. It was light, slightly high pitched, and giggling. The second was deep and thickly coated in an Irish accent, and was most definitely owned by Connor MacManus.   
You heaved yourself up into the night’s wind, letting it whip through your hair. Connor was standing near the end of the roof, looking out into the dimly lit city. You could see small twinkling bulbs in every direction from the roof, they stretched on for miles and Murphy often called it their own kind of ‘ocean.’   
The girl was blonde, platinum blonde. Her hair was thick, and looked like it had long, slightly tattered extensions weaved through it. Her waist was thin, but her ass was something you were sure many rap artists had written countless songs about. She had both of her hands buried deep into the back pockets of Connor’s holey jeans, cupping his ass without shame.   
They didn’t see you walk up and out onto the roof, and as you drew closer to them, you were able to make out some of their overly flirtations conversation.   
“It’s freezing up here! It’s not my fault that your ass is warm.” The woman squealed as she pressed her chest hard against Connor’s and nuzzled into his neck.   
“All I’m sayin’, Darlin’, is if ya wanted to cop a feel, ya didn’t need an excuse.” Connor was slurring his words together in a messy stream that told you he had probably been drinking since 4:30PM.   
“Oh he’s flattering himself now?” She laughed like a coy high school girl who had just snuck into a bar on her fake ID for the first time.   
“Sorry to interrupt…” Your voice trailed off. In all actuality you weren’t sorry at all, but rather were announcing your presence and speaking in a stiff tone that was undeniably meant to ask whom the fuck this new female was in your territory.   
“Ry?” Connor spun around to face you, squinting in the dark to make out your face. He laid his arm across the woman’s shoulders casually as she released one of her hands from his ass, but continued to firmly grip with the other.   
“Love, I wasn’t expecting you for a while.”  
“Do you even have the faintest idea of what time it is?” You ask Connor, as you take inventory of the woman, your eyes gliding up and down her.   
“I actually don’t. Rylee, you know I’m not really aware of much after the first few drinks.” Connor choked on a laugh; his attempt at breaking the awkward ice that the three of you were currently frozen in.   
“Obviously.” You lock eyes with the woman as you speak, daring her to challenge you in anyway.   
“Hey, I’m Sandy.” The woman bit her lip before she spoke and avoided eye contact.   
“Yes. I’m sure you are.” There was a suffocating tension choking the three of you, even in the open night air. You eyed Connor, who locked your gaze and challenged you to look away first.   
“I’m sorry, am I not supposed to be here? Is this your wife? ‘Cause you said you weren’t married.” Sandy looked between you and Connor eagerly, waiting an answer that never came as the two of you continued to stare at each other, caught desperately in the unknown of what was going to happen next.   
“Are you his wife?”   
You broke eye contact first and glanced at Sandy from the corner of your view, but quickly turned back to Connor.   
“No. I am not his wife.”   
Connor paused for a moment before he spoke, “Sandy, this is Rylee. My roommate.”   
The word ‘roommate’ stung as if Connor had slapped you across your face.  
Sandy, who did not strike you as a scholar by any means, was still wise enough to catch on to the lack of explanation behind your introduction.   
“I thought you said you lived with your brother…? There are only two beds downstairs.”   
You stare at Sandy, giving her another once over, blown away by your ‘competition.’ Was she the type of woman that had frequented this apartment before you had come along?  
“She’s observant, isn’t she?”   
“Don’t be a bitch, Ry, alright? Like I said, I didn’t know you’d be home. Fuck.” Connor removed his arm from its home on Sandy’s shoulders and glared at your through his drunken gaze.   
“What did you just call me?!” You could feel your anger bubble deep inside you, ready to unleash your wrath all over Connor and his bimbo he dragged home.   
“Fuck. Stop it. I didn’t call you anything, alright? I told you to stop acting a certain way, okay?” Connor reached for a smoke from the crumpled pack that was sitting on the ledge of the rooftop and threw it angrily into his mouth before struggling to light it against the early morning’s wind.   
“Alcoholic truth serum, right, Con?”   
Finally lighting his cigarette, he sucked violently on it before answering you with a cruel tinge in his voice. “What the fuck do you care who I’m with anyway? Huh? Murph should be home any time.”  
You let out a shocked, half laugh, that sounded more like a choke than anything else. You couldn’t help but let your mouth drop slightly ajar in painful shock as Connor looked at you in a way he never had before.   
Connor took a step towards you, instantly remorseful of his harshness. However the damage had been done and you quickly moved a step back, regaining the distance between you.   
You glace towards Sandy, who was shivering several feet away, leaning against the ledge, not daring to say a word.   
“I’m gonna go.” You turn around and make your way back to the metal railing sitting above the entrance to the loft.   
“No, Ry, come back.”  
“No, Murph will be back any time, like you said. I’ll wait downstairs.” You answer without turning back around.   
“Rylee, dammit.” You grip the cool metal between your fingers when you hear Connor turn to Sandy. “Hey, can you give us just a minute? Wait down in the apartment? We won’t be long, I just need to apologize properly, alright?”   
You pause as you hear the pads of Sandy’s bare feet stalk across the surface of the roof and make their way towards you at the stairs. The two of you exchange ferocious glares as she quickly moves down into the building.   
You turn back around with a fury in your eyes. “If you felt this way, then at least have the gall to man up and tell me face to face, don’t bring home some fucking trash from a random bar just to hurt me.”   
“Ha! Watch it baby, I don’t remember you complaining too much when you were that fucking bar trash.”   
The rage had overflowed inside of you as you rush towards Connor and slap his face, watching the skin on his left cheek rise slowly, red and raw.  
“Don’t you dare take your insecurities out on me! I would never try to intentionally hurt you, Connor!” You are practically screaming at him now, sure that every person within several miles, including Sandy below, can hear you.   
“Your intentions don’t mean shit, Babe, you still manage.” Connor leans back now against the same ledge that Sandy had just abandoned moments before.   
“You know, maybe this isn’t working anymore. Maybe it’s time that I start looking for my own place.” You speak quietly and walk slowly over to join Connor on the edge of the roof.   
“Is that what you want?” Connor asks, taking long drag from his smoke.  
“No, it’s not.” You eye Connor through teary eyes, but refuse to let your gaze reach his.   
“And what is it that you do, actually want?” Connor throws his already extinguished cigarette over the edge of the roof and onto the sidewalk below.   
“What kind of question is that?” You look at him, not completely sure of what he is getting at.   
“I think it’s a perfectly logical fucking question. What do you want? Do you want Murph? Do you want to fuck my brother?” You watch him as he stands up, looking down at you as he spoke.   
“Do you want me? Do you want me to fuck you?”  
You look into his face, watching the remainder of the moonlight dance across your handprint painted on his cheek, but you don’t answer him.  
“I asked you a question; do you want me to fuck you?”   
Before you have a spare moment to even breath, Connor’s hands find you. He yanks you upward into his arms; shoving his tongue past your teeth and pulling desperately at your cloths.   
You moan against Connor’s mouth as your blouse bursts open, buttons falling to the floor due to Connor’s violent pulls.   
The wind chills your skin on your stomach, making the fine hair on your neck stand on end.   
You push Connor away from you violently, trying to grasp onto where you are and what’s happening in this moment. You see Connor, panting and staring at you, looking hungry and willing to throw everything away for you in this single minute in time.   
You both lunge at each other in unison, grabbing wildly at each other’s bodies and biting whatever flesh your mouths can find.   
Connor unzips his pants and brandishes his shaft, standing firm, and pushes you down at your shoulders. Your knees hit the hard surface of the roof and you take him all in, feeling him against the back of your throat. You choke slightly and Connor moans uncontrollably as he thrusts into your open mouth. You grip his ass cheeks tightly, guiding his rough pushes.   
In a flash you remove him from your mouth and look up into his face. Your eyes lock as you slowly lick the length of him, up and down. You feel Connor shiver through his core as he watches you wrap your tongue around him.   
“What are you going to do to me?” You ask as you watch Connor’s desire slowly bubble just below his surface. A delicious smile spreads wide against his face and lets lose a small chuckle at your question.   
“You know exactly what I’m going to fucking do to you.”   
You bite down on your bottom lip before smiling up at him, still on your knees. Connor offers you his right hand, pulling you up. Once your standing, he gently kisses you, lapping at your lips lightly with his able tongue.   
Without notice, as if the small sweet moment in which you shared a kiss was already miles away, Connor turns you around and forces you to bend over in front of him; yanking your skin tight jeans down, slightly past your ass.   
You grip your hands tightly on the ledge of the rooftop, awaiting the harsh penetration that you were sure was coming. You feel the head of his member gently touch you at the very beginning of your entrance, as if he were teasing you with something he knew you would kill for in that moment.   
You can hear Connor’s heavy breathing behind you, and then you realize what he’s waiting for.   
You slowly push yourself backwards, rocking your body weight back on the balls of your feet. You force yourself on him, feeling your body engulf him. The sweet sound of Connor’s moans as you pull yourself off of him and shove yourself back on, are mind blowing.   
Connor places his hands forward, and slips them down into the cups of your bra; thumbing your nipples back and forth. You drop your hips slightly as you push back into him, adding further friction between your two bodies.   
You can feel Connor’s fingers digging into your skin as his sexual pressure is growing deep in your core. You know how bad he wants it, to grab you and take control. That’s what Connor has always wanted; to be wanted, to be needed, and to be in control.   
He’s letting you slowly fuck him, letting you drive him crazy, knowing that once he gives in, you both will be rocked to your very foundations.   
You pull yourself off of Connor, painfully slow. You slip backwards, slightly, only taking him in by the tip, teasing him.   
“What do you want, Con?”  
He doesn’t answer for a moment so you turn your head back around. He’s staring down at the two of you, where your bodies stand connected.   
“Connor.”   
He snaps his head up and looks at your face.  
“Ask me.” His face is desperate and eager. “Beg me.”  
His words tie your insides in tight sexual knots, and you nod.  
“Please, Connor, please.”  
Connor throws his left hand on your hip and his right on your shoulder, gaining full control of your body as you snaps back into you, making you scream his name loudly; loud enough for Sandy downstairs.   
You thought of that woman downstairs, gripping Connor’s ass, looking at him like he belonged to her. That thought, combined with Connor pumping deep inside you, brings tears rushing down your face; a mixture of pleasure and jealousy.   
You don’t hold back, you cry out as loud as you can, wanting nothing more than to have that bitch know what Connor is doing to you.   
“Fuck, Con, please. Don’t stop, baby. Harder.”   
Your voice contracts as you struggle to strings words together through Connor’s thrusts; but you don’t stop. You continue to beg him. You continue to scream what he needs to hear.   
“Baby, finish me. Please, I’m so close.”  
Connor forces you forwards so viciously, that with every thrust you get a slight glimpse of the street below as you rock against the ledge.   
You can’t hold on any long and you beg Connor to come with you, to fall victim to the delicious climax that you have gifted each other.   
You feel a hot release let loose deep inside of you as you scream Connor’s name one last time, loud enough for early morning pedestrians below to look upwards.   
Connor pulls away from you and goes to quickly put himself back in his dirty jeans, shielding himself for the cool whipping wind; but before he can you drop back to your knees and slowly lower your mouth onto him, lapping at him, and giving him one last taste of his orgasm before it dissipates completely.   
You place him back behind his zipper and stand up as the two of you allow yourselves one more kiss before returning to the loft.   
Connor grabs his smokes off of the ledge and offers you one, which you accept gratefully. Connor lights his cigarette, than comes close to you, lighting yours next; the smell of your sex still lingering around him.   
The swift movement of nicotine hitting your lungs is the perfect way to come down from the high that Connor had built up inside of you.   
“Connor?”  
His hazel eyes look at you as he gives you a small nod; the sun beginning to creep up over the horizon.  
“Just because I’m in love with your brother doesn’t mean that I don’t want you. It doesn’t mean that I’m not sorry for hurting you; and it definitely doesn’t mean that I am not eternally grateful, every day, that I made the random decision to walk into McGinty’s that night.”   
He smiles while looking out over the city as it begins to wake.  
“I know.”


	11. Our Own Kind of Drinking Game

Chapter Eleven:

“No! No, if we are going to play this stupid game, you are going to actually fucking drink, Darlin’. No god damn Coca-Cola for you.” Connor ripped the red aluminum can out of your hand from across the table and through it across the apartment, hitting the far wall and spraying sticky brown liquid all over the place.   
It was a rare night. So few nights were spent the three of you, all home at once. Odds were that one of the three of you worked every night out of the week, but about once or twice a month, the boys’ day shifts would line up with your night off and you would find yourself crowded around the card table in the corner of the loft, laughing, yelling, and filling up the top floor of the building with cigarette smoke.   
You were sitting crossed legged in a pair of Connor’s boxer shorts and a black tank top on one of the mismatched chairs, already about half way through the pack of cigarettes you had bought this morning, and staring at two shirtless Irish men who were currently fighting over a tall bottle of Jim Bean.   
The three of you had all stripped down to comfort after making your journeys home from work, and had slowly congregated around the rather flimsy card table. You all had quickly begun playing a make-up-the-rules-as-you-go game of truth or dare, which involved pulling the highest card from the deck of cards.   
Much to your dismay, you had started it. You had grabbed the grubby deck of cards, planning on possibly playing poker, only to have Connor immediately tell you that several cards were missing from the stack. You split the deck into an uneven three piles and told the boys that if your card was higher than the ones you drew, they each had to drink a shot.   
After several remarks of the make shift entertainment being ‘fuckin’ stupid,’ Connor and Murphy quickly evolved into trying desperately to get you drunk. The boys were already feeling foggy and slurring their words, and getting increasingly frustrated when they continued to draw cards that usually turned out to be 5s or lower.   
“Con, I’m not drinking that shit!” You had unfortunately drawn a four of spades, and Connor ripped the bottle from Murphy’s mouth and was trying to force you to take it as he stretched across the table.   
“You are fucking too! Murph and I have drunk every time we lost.”  
“The difference of course being that we want to drink.” Murph laughed thickly as he pointed out this obvious lapse in Connor’s thought process.   
You grab the bottle out of Connor’s thick hand and look down into it.   
“Fine. I’ll drink, but the rules are changing. If I win, I get to ask you a question, or force one of you to do something.” You eye the boys dangerously, already biting your lip and the sexually deviant possibilities.   
“You want to play truth or dare?” Connor asks with annoyed judgment in his drunken voice. “What are we, in fucking grade school?”   
“I don’t know, did you ever end up fucking someone over a game of truth or dare in grade school?” You stare Connor down until he leans back in his chair and laughs.   
“You can’t hold things over my head if they happened before we met, babe. Now drink, and none of those bull shit sips you try to get away with. I’m talkin’ a real shot.”   
You groan and press the lip of the bottle in your mouth. The liquid burned as it traveled down your throat and the boys enjoyed your coughing fit that quickly followed a little too much.   
“Alright, draw on the count of three,” you choke out, placing the bottle back in the center of the table.   
Connor instantly pulls up a three of hearts; Murph a seven of spades; and you laid down the King of hearts.   
“Alright, so, Connor who was your first kiss? And how old were you?”   
Murphy instantly burst out laughing and almost fell out of his chair, grabbing onto the side of the table to balance him.  
“You can go fuck yourself, Murph. Alright?” Connor growled and put his head into his hands, looking down at the floor.   
“Jesus, Ry, make him tell you. Please!” Murphy yelled, near tears.   
“Come on, Con. Give it up.” You hugged your bare legs and lit another smoke.  
“Fuck, it was Murph, okay?” Connor turned to punch Murphy as he howled even louder with laughter, and you choked on the smoke still lingering in your chest.   
“What!?”   
“We were fucking’ eleven years old, okay? This bastard kissed Emily Vase in our class at school all the god damn time. Well, I decided I was going to take a crack at kissing her myself, but I was nervous so I asked Murph, ya know, to show me how.”   
Murphy had fallen on to the concrete floor and was struggling to breathe through his strained laughter; tears streaming from his eyes.   
“And you helped him out?” You looked down at Murph rolling back and forth on the floor.  
“Of course. What are brother’s for?” Murphy laughed even louder, and Connor attempted to kick him from his chair.   
“Emily Vase, huh?” You eyed Connor from across the table. “How long have you two been swapping women?”   
Connor grabs the Jim Bean from the center of the table, taking a voluntary shot from the bottle. “You aren’t the first one we’ve both had our eyes on, no.”   
You turn your gaze to Murphy who was finally attempting to climb back up to the table.   
“Emily Vase? She was your first kiss?” You ask Murph, biting your lip and raising an eyebrow.   
“Aye. If it helps though, she wasn’t near as fuckin’ cute as you.” Murph half stands as he plants a wet, sloppy peck on your lip before he sits back down in his wobbly chair.   
Connor shuffled the deck containing roughly 47 cards, and cut it again into a messy three piles, handing one to you and the other to Murph.   
“Alright, draw.”   
Six of hearts, nine of clubs, and Connor throws down a Jack of spades.   
“Ha! Rylee, my dear, drink up.” He tosses the bottle to you, slightly sloshing the amber liquid down onto the table.   
You roll your eyes, but take another large shot, feeling your eyes water as Murphy takes the bottle from your hand.   
“I’m going to see you shit face drunk before the sun rises, I promise you that.” Connor laughed as he lit a smoke and began gathering up the cards once more for another round.   
Your head was fuzzy already, making you realize that you give new definition to the term ‘light weight.’ You run your left hand through your messy dark hair, brushing it back from your eyes, as you feel Murphy grab at the hand on your right from beneath the table.   
You glance his way from the corner of your eye, and see him blow you a light kiss as Connor shuffles, making a smile creep across your face.  
The drink had made bumps rise across your pale colored legs as you slowly felt the burn of the whisky start to dissipate in your gut. “Alright, Con. It’s fucking on. Hand me some cards.”  
Connor tongues his smoke over to the side of his mouth and smiles as he hands you your stack of cards to draw from.   
Murph shows you and Connor a Queen of hearts, Connor shamefully throws his ten of clubs down on the table, and you beam over your King of spades.   
“You going to ask me to relive the night that I lost my virginity to Felicity Martin now?” Connor asks as leans back onto two legs of his chair.   
“That depends, was Murph involved in that event as well?” You tease him.  
“No, no he was not. Not that time, anyway.”   
Connor eyes Murph coyly as he lets out a low grunt of a laugh and shakes his head, staring down at his Queen of hearts.   
“No, what I think I want is a live reenactment of that infamous first kiss, Con.” Connor instantly puts his forehead down onto the filthy table and begins groaning obscenities. “That’s right Connor, Murph, let’s see some of that sweet tongue action.”  
“You get dirty when you drink.” Murph looks at you with a crooked smile.  
“She’s dirty sober, Murph. What’s the difference?” Connor says without lifting his head.  
“Hey, hey. Less talking more making out.” You laugh as you make your demands.   
“Fuck.” Connor drops to his knees from his chair and pulls Murphy down onto his mouth, moving his jaw against his face quickly, twisting his tongue against his brother’s. They both close their eyes tightly, but move their mouths in unison, allowing the kiss to continue longer than you would have expected it to.   
Watching Connor’s chin move back and forth against Murphy’s; watching Murphy dig his fingers deep into Connor’s hair, was turning you on even more than you had expected it to, as you feel your pelvic muscles twitch uncomfortably.   
Connor pulls himself away and climbs backwards into his chair as Murphy wipes at his damp mouth with the back of his hand. There was an awkward silence that fell between the three of you, but Murphy grabbing up the cards and demanding it was his turn to disperse them quickly broke it.   
“Shit…” Connor groaned as soon as he saw you hold up your King of clubs.   
“My turn, yet again.” You laugh as you grab the bottle of Jim from the table, feeling the need to make your mind a little bit fuzzier before coming up with your next request.   
“What’s it going to be, then?” Connor sat straight up, preparing himself for his task.  
Your eyes move to Murphy who was already staring at you. His blue eyes making you feel, like they always did, as if they were looking into your very being.   
“Put Murph into your mouth, Con. I want to watch you get him off.”   
Connor stared at you.  
“Well, that escalated quickly, didn’t it?” Murph asked as he took another shot and chewed on his tongue.   
“Give me that.” Connor snaps the bottle back from Murph and takes three deep swallows of whisky before slowly dropping back down to his knees once more.   
Connor grips either side of Murphy’s seat and pulls him out to face him. Murphy’s stomach retracts sharply as Connor begins yanking viciously at his jeans; both of them locking their eyes onto you.   
The excitement you could feel inside you was almost frightening. You watched eagerly from behind you knees as Connor removed Murphy from his tight denim; stroking him several times over in an attempt to get him ridged.   
Murph was inhaling deeply, watching Connor, and biting his lip; but was not becoming hard nearly as fast as he had always in the past. You lower your feet down to the ground and move over to stand behind Murph in the chair; running your hands down the front of his bare chest and tracing the inside of his ear with your tongue.   
Murphy twitches slightly as you bite playfully on his ear lob and instantly becomes solid enough to enter Connor’s mouth.   
Connor looks up at you from between Murphy’s thighs, pausing before taking him in. You give Connor a slight, knowing nod, then watch as Connor’s mouth engulfs Murphy in all his glory.   
Trying desperately to fight it, but not being able to control himself, Murphy moans loudly as he enters Connor’s mouth, but then bites down on his own bottom lip to try and bottle up any other sound that may escape.   
You watch as Connor’s head moves up and down in Murphy’s lap, and get chills when Murphy grabs onto the side of the table for support. Connor’s slurping noises are thick and Murphy throws his other hand up and reaches for you. You lower yourself down to kiss him deeply, moving your tongue in and out of his mouth with the same speed and motion that Connor moves.   
Murphy pants heavily against your mouth, letting you know that he can feel himself beginning to lose control as Connor picks up his speed.   
“Let it out, baby,” you whisper to him, massaging his ear once again with your tongue. “Let me hear every noise you need to make.”   
Murphy erupts with powerful moans and moves his hand up and into the boxer shorts that are sitting on your hips; quickly assaulting your core with two rough fingers.   
You hold tight to the back of Murph’s chair, trying to steady yourself as Murph’s fingers penetrate you repeatedly.   
“Fuck, Con.” Murph growls.  
You can feel Murphy’s shoulders growing stiff as he tenses up, preparing himself for the rolling climax that is trying to escape from him. Murphy buries his face into your stomach. He is moaning against your skin and tonging your belly button as you watch him release into Connor, his body shaking violently as he nuzzles against you.   
Connor climbs back into his chair without a word, and grabs his whisky, drinking deeply from the nearly empty bottle.   
The three of you eye each other carefully as you return to your seat, still holding Murphy’s hand across the table.   
“Shuffle the damn cards.” Connor directs you as he places the glass bottle back in the center of the table.  
You hand Murph his stack and Connor his as you draw your card from the remainder. You glace down to see a pathetic two of clubs in your hand. Connor lifts his nine of hearts up to show you, and Murphy throws down his Queen of Spades impressively.   
Connor eyes his brother and gives a thick chuckle as he tongues the Jim Bean bottle once more. “So, Murph. What’ll it be?”  
Murphy looks at you and smiles before he speaks. “Fuck her, Con.”   
You look at Connor from across the table, both of you slightly unsure if Murph was serious. Although the three of you danced coyly around it, you were all well aware that Murphy and you were quickly becoming more and more of a singular couple by the day. A couple, which decided to have sex with Connor on a regular basis.   
You and Connor had not shared your rooftop tryst that had occurred the prior week with Murphy, and were both caught off guard when he requested the two of you sleep together in front of him.   
“Baby…” You question Murphy without elaborating, your eyes not leaving Connor.  
“You want me to fuck her? And what are you going to do, Murph?” You look over at Murphy, just as curious as Connor was.  
“I want to watch you fuck her. I want to watch you drive her crazy, Con. Like that first night that I was with her. I watched you fuck her from the stairs, and it was the hottest I had ever been. My skin felt like it was on fire. So go on.” Murphy motioned with his head for you to go to Connor.   
You wait for a moment, but eventually rise from your seat and walk over to Connor who was once again leaning back in his chair. You walk behind him then move his chair around, placing yourself between him and the wall behind you, standing in front of him.   
Connor slowly turns his head around and takes one last look at Murph, watching him nod his approval.   
You feel Connor grab roughly at your torso, licking your hips and groping the small of your back before quickly moving his hands down to your ass. Connor has pulled his boxers off of you in a flash and you feel them fall down to your feet below. Before you can even move, Connor’s tongue attacks your sex, burying itself between your legs. You throw your arms around his head, forcing his face further down.   
You bite your lip hard and look up at the sky through the transparent ceiling. Connor’s tongue had you panting heavily and flooding below within a matter of seconds. Then as fast as it had appeared, Connor’s tongue was suddenly absent and you heard the scuff of the chair across the cold floor.   
Connor had positioned himself back in the chair, pulling his jeans down around his own ankles and brandishing a full alert member between his legs. He grabs both your ass cheeks roughly and pulls you close to him before forcing you down onto his lap.  
You feel your insides hug Connor tightly as he enters you, wincing at how full you suddenly have become.   
Your eyes move over to Murphy who had lit a cigarette and was taking a long drag, watching you as you begin to pull yourself up and down on top of his brother.   
As you move, Connor quickly pulls of and throws your tank top, taking your breasts in his mouth, biting eagerly at your nipples, making you cry out.   
You quicken your speed as you ride Connor; your thighs slapping down on top of his every time you drop yourself back down on top of him.   
“Harder, baby. Go harder.” Connor groans into your chest as he grabs your ass, helping you lift off of him with more ease.   
Connor bites down hard on your collarbone as you wince painfully. You look down to see that he had broken the skin, a small trickle of blood running down the front of you.   
Connor moans hard as you rock your pelvis against him, making him buck dangerously against the flimsy chair in which he sat.   
You watch Murphy slowly put his right hand down the front of his pants, rubbing himself deliciously as he maintains his eye contact on you; still holding his smoke in his left.   
You grip your hands around the back of Connor’s chair, leaning yourself back as you pump up and down on top of his increasingly hard cock. You look up once again, closing your eyes in pleasure as you feel heat building up between your legs. Connor runs his tongue up the length of your neck as you feel yourself climb closer and closer to your peak.   
“You going to come for me, baby?” Connor growled into your neck as you curse thickly under your breath and between desperate gasps for air.   
You could feel your climax coming, with every slick motion you took on top of Connor, the muscles in your stomach were clenched and sweat beads had risen all over your body.   
“Murphy, baby, I need you. Please.” You reached your arm out for Murph from across the table. He immediately stood and came to you, forcing his tongue into your open, panting mouth.   
“Do it, Ry. Come for him. Come for me,” Murphy whispered in your ear, his hot breath and raspy words forcing you well over the edge.   
“Fuck, Connor!” You convulse in Connor’s lap as your orgasm rolls down your body in a vicious heat wave.   
Within mere seconds you feel Connor’s sex unload into you, allowing you to lift yourself off and climb down between his legs, cleaning him up with your mouth as Murph watches you while he stands above. 

Moments later, after you walk out from behind the short shower curtain; rinsing yourself free of any lingering sweat, you see Connor leaning against the card table, holding up Murph’s Queen of Spades.  
“So, let’s hear it then. Who is the better fuck? Me, or Murph?”   
You wrap your damp hair up into a clean but stained towel, allowing your eyes to travel between Connor and Murph, who had stretched long ways across the mattresses on the floor.   
“Hand me the rest of that bottle.”


	12. A Night To Ourselves

Chapter Twelve:

 

Last night had been a late one at McGinty’s for you, plus the boys had both spent the night at the meat packing plant. Once you all had returned to the loft this morning, you had fallen into a loose pile of limbs all laying on top of one another as sleep washed over you in a smooth and swift roll.   
The three of you slept for hours, despite the overly bright sun that shone through the ceiling of the apartment. When you began to finally stir, you were sweaty, and uncomfortable; you skin sticking rather sickly to Connor and Murphy’s.   
Without opening your eyes you could feel Connor rise from the mattresses, and hear him zip up his jeans. You heard the thud of his boots hitting the concrete floor, followed by the metallic click of a lighter and the musky, delicious smell of a Marlboro being ignited.   
Murphy had a lazy arm throw over your shoulders as you laid on your stomach, still fighting to cling to whatever magnificent dream had just escaped you.   
“Con?” You weakly called after him once you heard the heavy metal door to the loft being pushed vertically to the side. He was already almost to the elevator when you hear him call back to you.   
“Work. ‘Nother fuckin’ shift. Later.”   
You groan loudly as you roll violently onto your back. The sun was far in the western sky and had dimmed the apartment noticeably. You sweep the hair stuck to your forehead off of your face, eyeing Murphy from the corner of your vision.   
Murphy had been working grueling double and even triple shifts this week, causing him to often forget unimportant acts of humanity such shaving his face, washing his cloths, and eating.   
Murphy’s eyes were squeezed tightly shut as he heaved heavily in his sleep. He had a violent cowlick sticking up from the very top of his dark haired head, and a patchy, rather randomly scattered 5 o’clock shadow had made it’s home across his chin, upper lip, and cheeks.   
Spreading your fingers wide, you push your hand through Murphy’s thick locks, entangling your digits right around the spot where his cowlick was rooted. Murphy groans childishly as you gently tug at his hair, pulling your hand free.   
A smile makes it’s way across your face quickly as you watch Murphy try and swat you away while you trace the outline of his protruding collarbones on his chest. You push yourself up to hover over Murphy, leaning down to nibble playfully at his right ear; Murphy still growling with a large amount of annoyance.   
You slump back down to rest your weight on your right elbow, nuzzling your face into Murphy’s neck. You start to lick the tattooed outline of the Virgin Mary that rests there, attempting to trace the thin black lines with the tip of your tongue.   
“What are you doing?” Murphy asks, still showing his tinge of annoyance and being woken up.  
“Licking the Virgin Mary. It might be the closest thing I’ll ever have to a religious experience.” Your voice is teasing him, trying to egg him into a playful fight.   
You feel a heavily callused hand wrap itself around the back of your neck, pulling your head upward to meet Murphy for a kiss that was heavily ladled with morning breath, though you find yourself pushing your tongue into his mouth, not giving his less than appetizing mouth a second thought.   
“Mmm, sorry. That was probably terrible.” Murphy rolled to burry his face into the mattress, covering his mouth in embarrassment.   
“I hadn’t noticed.” You lean down to kiss his bedhead before rolling into the sitting position. “It probably wouldn’t kill you to find a toothbrush though.”   
Still hiding his face, Murphy swings an arm wildly, attempting to lightly slap you in retaliation.   
“You know you don’t taste like fucking sunshine either.” Murphy’s muffled voice was coming from somewhere within the bare mattress and balled up blankets.   
“I’m already on it,” you call over your shoulder as you stroll over to the kitchen wall of the loft, which held the only sink in the place. You stick a toothbrush into the corner of your mouth as you turn on the coffee maker.   
You spit into the sink and began fiddling with your hair as you pulled it tightly back, readying yourself for another shift of flirting with drunken patrons for tips.   
Murphy’s hands find your hips and pull you hard back into his pelvis as he starts kissing your neck. “Where are you going?”   
“You know I have to work. You know that you have to work too.” You said, turning around to put an arm lightly across his shoulders.   
“I don’t have to work. You don’t have to work either, actually.” Murphy had now moved up from your neck and was placing small kisses on your cheek and ear.  
You raise an eyebrow suspiciously. “What do you mean you don’t work? I know that I work. Doc told me last night before I left.”   
“Nah. I called him earlier today. You’re sick. You’ve been throwing up all night. It’s really pretty disgusting, actually.”  
“You did, huh?” You asked, kissing Murphy’s cheeks in return to his sudden burst of affection. “And what did Doc say about that?”  
“He said it was either the flu that Stu Perkins had last weekend, or you’re pregnant.” At the end of his sentence Murphy bit playfully down on your ear lob.   
You nearly choked. “That old man better shut his filthy mouth.”   
“Come on, would it really be so bad?” Murphy’s tongue was outlining the inner cuff of your ear as his thumb was rubbing gently over your hipbone below.   
You had never wanted children. The thought had never seemed like something that you would have been interested in, being someone’s mother. That idea had actually been a major point of controversy between you and your own mother. She acted as if having a baby was just a given, like that was what you were put on this earth for, to add to the ever over populated planet.   
In that moment, however, for the very first time in your life, the suggestion didn’t seem completely and utterly revolting. Maybe you didn’t want A baby, but Murphy’s baby?   
“Yes. It actually would be THAT bad!” You half yelled as you playfully push Murphy’s body away from your own.   
“Alright, alright! No baby. I was just kidding.” Murphy replaced his arms back at your hips and touched the tip of his nose to yours. “That doesn’t mean that we can’t keep practicing making one though, right?”   
The tip of his tongue lightly made contact with your closed lips.   
“You keep up this kind of talk and we’re never having sex again,” you teased as you snuck a quick peck of a kiss in between your words.   
Murphy suddenly slid his left hand down the front of your tight denim, massaging your sex tenderly at first, and then moving his fingers in a delicious vigor that made you gasp against his bare shoulder.   
“Somehow…” Murphy was talking quietly against your mouth, allowing you to feel his hot exhale on your lips, and to smell your own toothpaste breath as you panted heavily; “I seriously doubt that.”   
You bit down on your bottom lip hard, inhaling deeply as Murphy dipped a finger deep within you.  
“Io vado a scopare così forte stasera che si sta andando a urlare il mio nome a voce abbastanza alta per ogni prossimo raggio di dieci miglia a sentire.” Murphy whispered, his voice barely audible to your ears.   
“What did you say?” You manage to ask, between escaping moans.   
“Does it matter?” Murphy asked, leaning close to lick the length of your neck.   
“I hate when you talk to me in languages I don’t understand.”   
You throw your hand down onto the kitchen counter to steady yourself as you feel a second finger being moved inward.   
“I’m so sorry. That must be so frustrating for you.” Murphy’s breath was heated on the inside of your ear, his right hand grabbing your ass roughly. “I wouldn’t ever want to frustrate you.”   
His hand was absent from between your legs as quickly as it had appeared and Murphy dashed across the room to pick up a stray t-shirt off of the card table in the corner, leaving you coughing slightly from the sudden lack of pleasure.   
“Asshole.” You state the word as if it were the truest fact you had ever known; then slowly turned around to pour yourself some coffee.   
“I love you.” Murphy called teasingly from the other side of the apartment.   
“Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky that I’m exceptionally fond of you as well.” You took a deep swig of coffee, quickly remembering that you had brushed your teeth only moments before; cringing horribly.   
“So what am I doing tonight then? Since I’m currently puking my guts out?” You watched as Murph was attempting to pull his boots on without actually sitting down. “We obviously can’t go to the bar.”   
“Nope. We’re not going to the bar tonight.” Murphy had managed to get his second boot on by leaning his back against the concrete wall that held the front door, the front door that Connor had neglected to shut when he left.   
“So…?” You were waiting for an explanation from Murph, though he was offering very little in the way of their evening’s plans.   
“So, come on. You ready?” Murphy had pulled on his black pea coat over his broad shoulders, and had put his black sunglasses on top of his mess of hair.   
“Ready for what?” You grab a black jacket off of the floor next to the bed as you slip on a pair of black leather boots.   
“For our expedition to explore Jupiter’s moons.”   
Your raise your eyebrows at him.  
“It’s a fucking surprise, alright? Get your shit.” 

Twenty-three minutes later, the two of you were climbing out of a weary taxi, in a part of town that you had never been in before. As you exited the car, and Murphy paid the driver, you read a brightly lit neon sign glowing in the darkening sky.   
VIRGIN INN  
DISCOUNT RATES  
“Somehow I don’t think that this is the hotel for us,” you say through a light chuckle, linking your fingers through Murphy’s as the cab slowly pulled away from the curb.   
“Wait. Are you telling me that you’re not a virgin?”’  
“No, no. I am. I was assuming that you weren’t. You always kind of struck me as dirty.”  
Murphy actually laughed out loud at this retort. “I assure you, love. I am as pure as the freshly driven snow.”   
“Well then, shall we continue, my good sir?”   
Murphy gave you a small bow of his head and offered you his arm. “We shall indeed, my lady.”   
After linking your arm at the elbows with Murph, the two of you continued to walk across the pothole filled parking lot and up several flights of stairs until you reached room number 447.  
The number seven was hanging crooked on the door when the two of you arrived at the threshold. After several moments of struggling against the rusted lock on the door, Murphy opened it to show you a hot room, full of pre lit candles that looked as if they had been burning for a while.   
“How did you…?” The question became lost as you surveyed the room. It was shabby, as the hotel was not a nice place, but there were candles on every available surface. Fresh fruit sat in large bowl on the floor, next to a bottle of some wine that you recognized instantly as something your parents would have drank.   
“Wow. Well aren’t you fucking Romeo Romantic?”   
Murph smiled sheepishly.  
“Not really. I made Roc do it.”   
You couldn’t help but laugh. Rocco was a real friend, which he proved time and time again. The thought of him carrying arm full after arm full of candles up the multiple sets of stairs, purchasing fresh fruit and nice wine, or even the image of Roc attempting to light all the candles, (no doubt with a lit cigarette), was too much for you to handle.   
“My prince,” you mock Murphy as you link your fingers behind his neck. “What is all this about?”   
“I just haven’t,” His words were temporarily paused due to light kisses he was continually receiving from you, “Had much time alone with you. That’s all.”   
You push the black pea coat form Murph’s shoulders, letting it drop heavily onto the hotel room floor before your hands start pulling longingly at his belt buckle.   
“No.” Murphy said against your mouth as you kissed him deeply; while he pushed away your hands.  
“No?” You pulled away from him in surprise. You search his eyes with yours, confused as to what Murphy’s plan for this evening really was.   
“No.” Murphy repeats harshly.   
“What the fuck do you mean, ‘No?’ Why the hell are we here then? What do you want to do? Play Scrabble?” You asked, immediately jumping on the defensive.   
“Nah. I’m no good at Scrabble.” Murphy stated, a hunger growing ramped in his gaze.   
“Then what are we going to do?” You ask again, staring him down.   
“We’re going to do, “ Murph moved two steps closer to you, your chests touching, as he grips your shoulders tightly with both his hands, “whatever the hell I want.”   
Murphy shoved you backwards onto the bed violently, taking you very much by surprise. You stare at him, searching him all over to see what exactly his intentions really were.   
“Take your cloths off.”   
You still stare at him, not knowing where all of this was coming from. You couldn’t tell if Murphy was upset about something, or if this was something new, sexually, that he was throwing at you.   
“What if I don’t want to?” You ask, deciding to test the waters.   
Murphy stares you down, not daring to blink first. “Did I ask you what you wanted?”  
You bite your lip, feeling your heartbeat explode with fury in your chest. You knew what this was.  
“No. You didn’t.”   
“Then take off your cloths. Now.”   
You stand up off of the bed, and begin to take off your black jacket, then your tank top. You then pull off your boots on at a time, throwing them across the room, never breaking your eye contact with Murphy.   
Once you had finished, you stand there, naked, in front of Murphy as his eyes survey you slowly, up and down.   
Murphy strides over to you, cupping your breasts in one hand while he grabs your ass in the other, but he doesn’t kiss you.   
“Get on the bed.”   
You slowly oblige his order, crawling across the bed on your hands and knees, stopping in the middle. Murphy walks over to the side of the bed and pushes you harshly onto your back before yanking your right arm up towards the nearest bedpost.   
He quickly produced a thin black rope, which he wrapped tightly around your wrist, then began to fasten to the wooden post. You pulled against the rope and there was no give to your restraint. Murphy moved quickly to the other side of the bed and began to fasten your other wrist in the same fashion as the first.   
You could already feel your heart beating faster. The restraints were not doing wonders for your claustrophobia. You wanted desperately to play along, but already you could feel a throbbing in your temple and pulsation in your throat.   
Murphy moved down toward your feet and grabbed you by your left ankle.  
“No…” You look up at him, and he read your mind; dropping your ankle back onto the cheap motel bedspread.   
Knowing that he wouldn’t tie down your legs already helped ease your exploding pulse.   
The room was dim enough that you could barely see anything past the shadows that were playing tag across Murphy’s porcelain skin as he removed his shirt. It was humid, as if someone had turned up the thermostat, though you weren’t sure if it was actually the heat, or if it was the ache of anticipation for what was about to happen next that had sweat rolling to the surface of our skin.   
Murphy seemed to be standing there, admiring you as if you were some great work of art, making you feel unbelievably self-conscious and exposed. You wanted him to begin, you wanted him to stop the teasing, waiting, and staring; however, Murphy seemed content in taking you all in, watching your body breathe steadily in and out while tied down to the top bed posts.   
“What are you going to do with me, baby?” You asked, trying to kick start the evening’s events.  
Murphy walks slowly over to you, and stops to stand above you on the right side of the bed. “I told you. I’ll do whatever I want. This is about me, not you.”   
His voice was calm and steady, so unlike his regular rambunctious vocals. Murphy seemed hard, and rather cold, something you had never seen from him. The change in demeanor was definitely exciting you more than you had even expected.   
“And I think the first thing I want to do, is get a better look at you.” Murphy picked up a thick golden candle off of the nightstand next to the bed, and then he crouched down on the balls of his feet, staring at your breasts, leaning the candle close to you, as if to examine you better.   
You could feel the heat from the flickering flame as it grew nearer and nearer to your very exposed skin. For the briefest of moments you were concerned, even a little afraid as to what Murphy may do to you. Trust had never been your strong suit, and being tied down to a bed, being so vulnerable, was new to you.   
“Kiss me.” You didn’t ask him, but demanded it, looking desperately up into his stunning blue eyes that had captured you the morning that you had first met.   
“I told you, tonight isn’t about you. We’re going to do what I want.” Murphy was still in character, but if you were going to be expected to play along, you needed this from him.  
“Kiss me, please. After, I’ll do whatever you want.”  
Murphy’s stern face broke momentarily; he blinked several times in a row before leaning down over you, and gently placing his lips over your own.   
The kiss was passionate, and soft. You felt his rough hand caress your face as you closed your eyes, engulfed in how very much in love you actually were. You felt the tip of his nose rub gently back and forth over yours.  
“I will always love you.” Murphy’s words were soft, even lower than a normal whisper. You weren’t even sure if you were supposed to actually hear them, or if he more said them to himself.   
Murphy sat back up and took the candle back off of the floor. He moved the light of the flame over your body from your face down to your legs, which you had locked together at your ankles. The candle came back up and hovered for a moment just above your navel, Murphy’s other free hand moving upward to rub your nipple between his thumb and index finger.   
Suddenly you felt a hot stink make contact with your stomach. You winced and bit your lip as the hot was ran down your slopping stomach and began to pool, then quickly harden within your belly button.   
As the wax had hit your bare midriff, Murphy had tweaked your nipple, causing a magnificent sensation of pleasure that coupled perfectly with the stinging of the hot wax.   
Murphy groped your breast roughly, massaging it thickly between his fingers, bringing the light of the candle upwards as he did.   
Next you felt the hot, penetrating sting make contact with your free, unattended breast. The wax hurt considerable more when it fell on top of your sensitive and protruding nipple. You gasped harshly and swore in a low, throaty tone as Murphy bent down to kiss the skin that had just been stung; kneading your sore nipple gingerly between his teeth.   
Murphy’s mouth left your chest and he slowly stood up to walk down to the end of the bed. You watched him as he shed his pants in front of you, showing all of himself as he did since neither of the boys wore underwear the majority of the time.   
You couldn’t help but bite your lip in longing as you looked down at him. He was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. His pale skin practically glowed in the dark room; his features were harsh and unlike most that you see people wearing out in day-to-day life. His jaw, collarbones, and hips stuck out from his skin and freckles were lightly kissed across his shoulder blades and chest. Murphy’s hair was so dark, and his eyes so light that the contrast alone could drive you insane.   
Murphy grabbed one of your ankles and flung your leg apart from the other, spreading you wide open in front of him.  
“Now what do we have here?” Murphy asked, cocking his head to the side.   
He bent down to knees at the end of the bed, candle still in hand, and began to lean forward, traveling up the length of your legs. You felt his tongue make the journey from your left kneecap all the way up to your center, stopping just before your entrance, driving you to near sexual hysterics. You then felt his mouth place soft kisses all over your center, but never allowing his tongue to venture past his lips, proving he was desperate to tease you into insanity.   
“Fuck, Murph. Come on.” The anticipation was almost too much for you to bear. You were aching to have him, any part of him at all, within you.   
“You don’t get what you want, unless I decide to give it to you. Understand?”   
You throw your head back violently into the pillows on the bed, becoming more frustrated by the second.   
As you stared up at the ceiling, you suddenly feel the heated sting of the wax once more on your skin. You cry out as Murphy poured a large amount of it onto your hip, you then feel it quickly run down your pelvis and begin to pool on the bedspread beneath you. Murphy watches as you twitch in discomfort and light pain for a moment. He watches your chest heave up and down and your stomach move inward and out.   
The sting subsided and your eyes had begun to water. You let out a deep exhale just before you felt it. Murphy’s mouth mounted your sex, his tongue parting your ways and exploring with a vigor that made you cry out louder than any wax ever could.   
His hands forced your legs as far apart as they would spread, as if he were planning on making his current residency a permanent one. Your body twists, twitches, and contours against his mouth as gasp for panicked breaths that can’t come to you fast enough. Murphy pins down your torso with powerful arm to stop you from moving away from the tongue that was about to give you your quickest climax to date.   
You can hear Murphy as he sucks and laps at you, causing you to pull violently on your rope restraints that he had made sure were very securely fastened.   
“Murph…” You gasp into the pillow beside you. It’s all that you can manage to get out. You seemed to have forgotten how to form words, let alone sentences. You were rocking your pelvis up into Murphy’s mouth, trying to aid him in the orgasm that was so close you could taste it. It was so close, in fact, that you could feel it beginning. That perfect tingle of release that you had craved since the moment you had watched Murphy undress.   
You begin to hold your breath in preparation for your climax to roll over you in a thunderous wave; but it doesn’t.  
Murphy’s mouth was suddenly, cruelly absent from between your legs. You shot your head up to look downward, only to see Murphy crawling back up into the standing position. He walked around to the side of the bed and began to loosen the ropes just enough so that you could move your wrist.  
“What the hell?” You ask, possibly in the most pathetic whine you had ever witnessed yourself use.   
“I told you, you only get what I’m willing to give you. I didn’t want you to come yet. Now turn around. Get on your hands and knees.”   
“Why? So you can just fucking tease me all night?” You weren’t sure if you were a fan of this new game, as you had never been so sexually frustrated in your entire life as you were in this particular moment.   
You had climbed onto your hands and knees and Murphy was retightening the black ropes around the bedposts.   
“You’ll come. I promise you that. You’re just going to do it when I say so. When I give you permission.”   
Murphy walked back behind you and out of your sight, but as he had you had noticed without a doubt how fully firm and ready he was. He wanted the ending just as bad as you did, which eased your displeasure with the situation.   
Murphy’s hands quickly found your ass, groping it and spreading it, as if he were determined to memorize every inch of your flesh in a single evening. You suddenly felt his teeth sink into your left ass cheek; causing you to flinch and drop your hip in surprise.  
“You like that?” Murphy’s voice asked from somewhere behind you.  
You didn’t answer, but instead panted for air. The intense sexual tension was making it difficult for you to find enough oxygen.   
You felt a hard, open handed slap lay itself across your back side, making you cry out loudly.  
“I asked you a question. Do you like that?”   
“Yes. Fuck. Harder. Hit me harder.”   
You arch your back in anticipation, eagerly awaiting the next contact. The second hit was harder and the sound of flesh on flesh contact rang out through the hotel room. You winced in pain but the excitement had caused a flood from between your legs.   
“Is that all you’ve got?” You ask, braving a look behind you from over your shoulder. Murphy was panting too. You playing along, asking for me, demanding more, was throwing him a curveball.   
Murphy bent low to pick up something off of the floor. You watched him as he lifted up the belt that had held up his jeans while they were still on his body. Chills ran through your spine as you watched him fold it in half and raise it in the air.   
The belt made contact with your ass and you yelped out in pain, but yet demanded that he hit you harder. You had never had sex like this before in your life, certainly not back home in your suburban hell. You had never thought of pain as appealing, but now, with every snap of the belt, with every contact of palm on flesh, you practically cried tears of longing for Murphy to be inside of you.   
After the fourth whip against your skin, you felt it; the tip of Murphy at your entrance. A shiver run through your entire body and you couldn’t help but bend yourself upwards in longing.   
“Yeah? You want me?”  
“I want you, baby. So bad.” In that moment you were positive you had never uttered a more true statement.  
“How bad? How bad do you want me?”  
“Baby, please, I want you inside of me.”  
Murphy placed his hands on either of your hips, lining himself up to throw in a harsh penetration.   
“More than Connor?”  
You stopped for a moment and look back over your shoulder at Murphy. He wasn’t looking at your face, but rather was looking down, almost avoiding eye contact.  
“More than anyone, more than anything.” You watched as Murphy’s eyes looked up and finally locked with yours.   
That was exactly what he had needed to hear.   
Then finally, he gave it to you. The thrust that was the most gratifying thing you had ever felt in your life. Murphy forced himself inside with a single, powerful push, filling you completely; making your knees buckle and your fists to cling onto the bedspread for dear life.  
Murphy let out a delicious moan of release, giving you the distinct impression that he had been anticipating this moment just as much as you had.   
Using his hands, Murphy guided himself in and out of you repeatedly. You rocked yourself back and fourth against the bed, pushing yourself back into each and every thrust.   
You felt Murphy’s hands stray from your hips, and then felt one of them crawl up towards your scalp and grab a handful of hair; twisting it in order to gain leverage as he continued to throw himself into you from behind. The other hand, however, had found the belt turned whip, once more.  
The snap of leather on leather forewarned you to what was coming. The belt made contact with your bare skin once more and it was as if you had been shocked by an electric current. The pain only seemed to amplify the pleasure. The harder Murphy fucked you, the harder you begged him to hit you, until the combination of the belt and Murph became too much for you to bear.  
The orgasm that found you was so powerful that you couldn’t allow yourself to scream, nor breathe. You opened your mouth, though no sound was permitted to leave. Murphy still thrust into you, but only for a matter of mere moments before he too found himself letting go and falling into a climax that left him far from silent.   
Murphy and you then fell into each other, kissing wildly as if it were the first time all over again.


	13. You Come Back to Me

Chapter Thirteen:

The hot water always seemed to disappear long before you were ready to leave the loft’s pour excuse of a shower. Bumps had rose all over the length of your body as you hurriedly rinsed the rest of the soap from your hair, desperate to vacate the frigid water.   
The pipes moaned from deep within the wall, as you pulled hard on the metal knob to shut the water off. A shiver ran down your spine, making your limps twitch as you pulled back the half shower curtain and walked through the massive puddle on the floor that was yet to roll it’s way down to the drain in the far corner.   
Connor and Murphy had both been asleep when you had crawled out from between them for your rinse down. Connor had been shielding his eyes from the blinding sun with a pillow, actually THE pillow, since there was only one. Murph never slept with a pillow, and since Connor hogged the only one in the place, you had learned to adapt over the past months.   
However as you exited the damp corner of the apartment, you were met with a vastly empty room before you. The boys were nowhere to be seen, and confusion danced across you as you went looking for at least semi clean cloths to put on.   
You manage to find a pair of faded jeans that only slightly smelled of beer and smoke as you vow silently to yourself that you are definitely going to walk down to do the laundry tomorrow, something both boys seemed to have completely abandoned as soon as you became a permanent fixture in their lives.   
You pull on one of Murphy’s t-shirts that is considerably too big for you, but still holds tight to his signature bodily scent as you inhale it deeply. Once you have pulled on your boots you stalk over to the card table pushed into the corner to grab your jacket when you see a messily scribbled note on the back of a receipt that reads, ‘Gone to bar.’   
You chuckle to yourself under your breath as you pull on your knee length tight jacket and began to button it up. Was that note truly necessary? Guessing that the boys were at the bar didn’t require a Sherlock intellect. They frequented three places exclusively; the bar, the plant, and the loft.   
The cool Boston air caught your damp hair, making it stick to your face in the wind as you left the building and started making your way down the street to the bar. You took out a cigarette from your long coat’s pocket, sticking it in your mouth before patting yourself down, searching for a lighter.   
In the other pocket you came across a small piece of paper that was pushed deep into the corner of the fabric, folded several times. Not knowing what it was you quickly begin to straighten it out. It was a check. A check for $500 that your parents had wrote out to you the day of your high school graduation over four years previously.   
Your mother’s handwriting was looped and swirled as she etched the date and the dollar amount. The memo at the bottom simply stated, ‘Congratulations.’   
The day that they had called your name and handed you a diploma, your parents weren’t there. They had been on the last day of a cruise that they had book over a year in advance, claiming that they didn’t know what date your graduation would be, but they were sorry that they would have to miss it. When they finally returned from their trip around the Caribbean, they had handed you this check.   
You had never bothered to cash it because, frankly, the gesture disgusted you. They had missed yet another mile stone in their only daughter’s life, while on yet another vacation in which you had not been invited, but worse than that, they didn’t even know you well enough to buy you a gift. They had stopped paying attention to the person you had become as soon as you had reached 14-years-old and showed no interest in becoming a doctor, a lawyer, or any form of business executive.   
Mom and Dad had always given you a set amount of allowance, automatically transferred to your checking account from theirs every two weeks. You had never wanted for anything financially; that is, until you had moved to Boston and moved into the luxurious lifestyle that the MacManus brothers provided for you.   
You partially ache that the check had long since passed its 120 day cashing point, thinking momentarily at how wonderful a spare $500 would be, since you knew later tonight you were bound to be desperately searching for quarters to do your laundry.   
You continue to stare at the check while you make your way down the street to McGinty’s, a journey that you had made so many times now that you could do it in your sleep. Your eyes lock on your mother’s signature, her name. You find her face in your memories and wonder for a brief minute what she actually did do when she found your room empty without so much as a note scribbled on the back of a receipt as to where you had gone.   
Had she called the police? Had she filed a missing persons report? Was there a large black and white photograph of you circling around in the Salt Lake Tribune back home, asking for any information on your disappearance?   
You doubted it.   
As neglectful as she was, your mother had never been an idiot. She probably was well aware that you weren’t happy, and was more concerned with what to tell the neighbors than she was about your whereabouts or safety.   
You had reached the heavy wood door that was the entrance to McGinty’s. You went to fold the check back up and put it back into your pocket, but instead dropped it triumphantly into the trash just outside of the door.   
She wasn’t your family anymore, if she ever had been. Connor and Murphy were your family now, your life. You knew that as you stared down at the expired check in the trash that you would never leave them, you would never abandon your home with them to hit the road and the unknown. You were happier than you had ever been, happier than your money and your stability at home had ever made you.   
The mere thought of losing the boys from your life was enough to make your heart jump into your throat and cause your stomach to do summersaults. You loved them, and they loved you. It was simple. It was perfect.   
The bar was fairly empty as you pushed open the door. The lighting was considerably darker than it had been out on the bright street. You squint your eyes, waiting for them to adjust and scanning the booths, looking for the boys.   
“Afternoon, love.” Doc was wiping down the bar and greeted you with a crooked smile and thickly accented words.   
“Hi, Doc,” you smile back, “Con? Murph?”  
The old man pointed into the far corner of the dirty bar.   
You nod gratefully as you make your way across the wooden and worn floorboards.   
Connor and Murphy were grouped into a wide circular booth, with several other men, all of them sloshing beer back from large pints and laughing heartily through a thick cloud of cigarette smoke.   
“Aye! There she is!” Murphy was laughing thickly at something that Rocco had just said, but half stood up and pointed to you the moment that you caught his eye.   
You smile widely, “Here I am. Thanks for the note.”  
“See? I told you she’d find it.” Murphy smacks Connor from where he sat across the table.   
“Aye, come. Sit.” Connor motions for the men to all squeeze closer in the booth, however the booth already seemed rather full to the brim.   
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to happen. I’ll just go get a chair.”  
“Fuck the chair. Come here!” Connor yelled as he grabbed you by the arm and pulled you down onto his lap, causing several men, including Murph, to laugh.   
“Fuck the chair?” you giggle, “How many have we had already?”  
“Ah, a few?” Connor’s answer comes off more as a question as he looks over to Murph for reassurance.  
“Aye, a few. It’s been a few.” Murphy agreed, validating Connor’s overly vague answer.   
You positioned yourself more comfortably on Connor’s lap as he throws an arm around your waist.   
“So, what were you boys talking about before I crashed your sausage fest?”   
“Roc here was just telling us a delightful story of his unfortunate choice in ladies last night.” Murph informs you, pointing an index finger in Rocco’s direction.  
“Yeah, Roc? Did you find yourself a real class act to take home?” You asked from across the table, giving Roc a teasing look of extreme interest.   
“Fuck, man…” Rocco ran a large hand through his mangled mane of dark hair, looking down as he lit another smoke.  
Murphy was already laughing again, “Come on, Roc. How did you describe her? Skinny, in a ‘meth-y, cracked out sort of way’ but with ‘tits like punching bags?’”   
You couldn’t help but snort into Connor’s beer that you were sneaking a swig of.   
“Alright, alright. She wasn’t a prize, but I’ve taken home worse, and so have these two assholes.” Rocco stated, slamming a heavy fist down onto the table.  
“What!?” You ask in shock. “Do tell, Roc.”  
“No, Roc, really. Don’t.” Murph eyed Rocco warningly from over his nearly empty glass.  
“I’ll beat your ass, Roc.” Connor stated, pointing a threatening finger in Rocco’s direction.   
“Rocco, don’t let them scare you. Let’s hear it,” you egg him on.   
“Fine, I won’t elaborate. Let’s just say not all of these two’s explorations have been near as lovely or as fruitful as you, Ry.”   
“Awe, Roc. You’re going to make me blush.”   
Rocco rolls his eyes at you as he stands up from the bar to get another round for the table, shaking the table as he went.   
“You two wouldn’t ever peruse a less than classy lady, would you?” You eye Murphy from across the table, teasing him with your gaze.   
“I can’t speak for Murph, but I only go after top shelf myself tail myself.” Connor grabbed his beer back out of your hand.  
“That so? Like, what was her name? Sandy? She was definitely one you’d want to take home to mom.” You look at Connor cautiously, that night with Connor and his bimbo on the roof quickly running through your mind.   
Connor’s hazel eyes meet yours and you know that he is reliving that night too. You suddenly feel something stiff beginning to grow beneath you in Connor’s lap.   
“Who the hell is Sandy?” Murphy asks in a voice that shows genuine curiosity.  
Both you and Connor turn your heads to look at Murph; quickly remembering that neither of you had shared the events of that night with him.   
“Just some woman, a real winner, who I caught Con flirting with one night while I was tending bar.”   
You cringe a little at your white lie. You don’t really know why you don’t want Murphy to know about Sandy, or that night up on the roof, but you don’t. It seems like that night was just between you and Connor, as he wasn’t sharing that story with his better half either.   
Murphy seemed to buy the story, however some of the other guys sitting around the table didn’t seem so sure. You attempt to keep a strong front up under the questioning gazes, which was becoming more and more difficult as the bulge beneath you grew.  
Rocco was now beginning to make his way back from the bar, carrying a tray full of heavy pint glasses; beer sloshing messily over the tops. He slammed down the tray and pushed his fly away hair from his face once more.  
“Awe, Rocco!” was called out in unison as everyone immediately reached into the center of the table for a brew.   
Connor leaned up to grab a fresh beer, taking you partially with him. The motion caused a shocking friction between Connor’s lap and your ass, catching both of you by surprise. Your eyes locked once more, a hunger behind Connor’s look makes your thighs twitch uncomfortably.   
“How about some pool? Huh?” Rocco asked, still standing. “This table is fucking cramped.”   
There was a mix of ‘yes’ and ‘yeah’ heard from around the table as the men all got to their feet to play pool or watch.   
“Murph. You’re up. Let’s play, brother.” Rocco threw Murph a pool stick as he finally edged his way out from the booth.   
You move to stand up and walk over to the pool table, however Connor quickly thrusts you back down into his lap, pushing his hand down into the crotch of your jeans beneath your long coat, shielding the action from view.   
You allow yourself a sharp inhale as you push your ass violently back into Connor, rocking onto his erection through the denim prison that was currently your pants. Connor’s powerful hand began to rub in between your legs ferociously, causing you to let slip a louder-than-intended moan from your lips.   
“Con, what are we doing?” You ask him, not turning back to face him, but instead staring strait ahead as Rocco became setting up the break of the billiard balls.   
Connor didn’t answer, but instead fumbled with the button at the top of your jeans. Once he successfully had them undone, he made quick work of pulling them down around your thighs, pushing your long coat forward as he did so; hiding any bare skin that may have been visible.   
You grip onto the table with your left hand, and the cushion of the booth with your right, stabling yourself and you hear Connor’s zipper being undone from beneath you.   
Connor lifts your ass up, positioning himself at your entrance as you allow yourself to drop back down, all at once taking Connor in his entirety.   
The feeling of his sudden entrance is painful at first, harsh, and rough. However, your body releases more than adequate lubrication as Connor leans forward to push your hair aside and bite down hard on your neck.   
“There it is,” Connor whispers softly in your ear, “I knew that would do the trick. It always does,” moving against you more swiftly and with greater ease after the flood that was released from within you.   
Connor places his hands on either side of your hips, gliding you against his lap as you slowly push yourself up and down, desperate to not catch the eye of any of the men gathered around the pool table.   
You lean forward, putting pressure on your knees, allowing Connor to thrust himself upwards, causing him to hit hard to reach, sensitive nerves deep within your core.   
You close your eyes tightly, staring down at the ground as Connor fucks you deeply. It takes every once of self-control you have to not cry out loudly. You can hear Connor exhaling rapidly every few thrusts, he too biting his own lip to keep from moaning.   
All the men grouped around the table around watching avidly as Murphy and Rocco take turns aiming their shots. Murphy is bent low over the table, lining up with great precision as he glances over at you casually. Your eyes meet, and you know that he knows.   
His look is fully aware and you feel again, like you so often did, that Murphy was fully capable of reading your deepest thoughts.   
You can’t help but watch Murphy, stare at him as you rock discreetly against Connor’s throbbing cock. None of the other men show any sign of being any the wiser, but Murphy knew. He always did when it came to you and Connor.   
Your body aches as Connor pumps himself in with a fury that lets you know what is coming next.   
“Baby, faster.” You whisper behind you, panting heavily under your breath.   
“I’m trying, love,” Connor grunted lowly back, “keep pushing that pretty ass back into me.”   
You quickly follow Connor’s orders and forcer yourself back with a renewed vigor, causing Connor to growl low obscenities.   
“Fuck. Don’t stop baby. Like that, keep going.” Connor’s voice was desperate and hungry, pushing you ever closer to climaxing in a room full of people, in front of Murphy.   
“I won’t stop, Con. I’ll never stop.”   
You continue to drop your ass back into Connor’s lap repeatedly, sweat making a home across your brow.   
You hear Connor moan from behind you as you turn back around, watching him try to muffle his climax by biting down onto his own fist.   
The feeling of Connor’s rolling orgasm releasing inside of you as he forces you down on his dick even harder, combined with his muffled cries of your name buried into your hair, pushes you into a climax with no further effort.   
Your breathing is labored and scarce as you accidentally slam your fist down onto the table, causing a class to knock over. Murphy looks over at your again while he lights a smoke, Rocco bends down to take aim.   
Another patron turns around from the pool table at the sound of the glass tumbling, “You guys okay over there?”  
“Yes.” Connor croaks, attempting to sound normal and failing miserably. “We’re fine.”   
In a swift motion you stand up, releasing Connor from within you, causing him to gasp deliciously one last time. You pull your pants back up just as your coat drops back down over your legs. You turn around to eye Connor, already finding him safely back in the containment of his jeans.   
“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” you inform Connor just as Rocco made his winning shot, causing all the men to cheer.  
“Connor! Get your ass over here, you’re playing winner!” Rocco calls from across the bar triumphantly.  
“And I am apparently going to go play pool,” Connor says as he stands up from the booth, grabbing your ass with his right hand as he walks past you.   
“You do that,” you retort, laughing casually as you walk around the table and towards the women’s bathroom in the corner past the bar.   
You move to push open the door with the stick figure woman on it just as another hand beat you to it.  
Before you have the time to turn around you are pushed violently into the restroom and shoved into the nearest wall face first.   
Both your palms and your left cheek pushed up against the cool tiled wall, you feel your jeans being ripped down your legs, exposing your bare ass and thighs. You look down just in time to see Murphy force your legs and ass apart and begin lapping rapidly at your core, which was still containing the remainder of Connor’s climax; a lit cigarette still hanging limply between the fingers of his right hand.   
“Murphy. Fuck.” You wince your eyes tightly shut as you feel his tongue explore and massage you deeply.   
You feel Murphy’s tongue lick you from the tip of your sex, all the way up the length of your ass as he stands back up behind you. Still holding you firmly in place against the tile, Murphy throws the smoke back up into his mouth, and yanks his own pants down around mid thigh.  
Without saying a single word, you feel Murphy plunge deeply into you, staying there for mere seconds before he withdraws and reenters, penetrating you past any thought or comprehension.   
You call his name as the smoke of his lit cigarette curls around your hair. Murphy grabs hold of your hips for better leverage as he forces himself deep within you.   
Unable to move at all as Murphy pins you up against the wall, you hold still as Murphy has his way with you, grunting loudly with each thrust that he gifts you. You find yourself screaming his name, loud enough that you’re positive most of the bar patrons just outside the door can hear.   
You feel Murphy’s thigh muscles tighten against the back of you; he grabs a handful of your hair and tongues your ear and neck as a white-hot light washes over you. You come again, the violet second orgasm you have experienced within a matter of minutes. Murphy continues to fuck for a few moments more until he spills inside of you, a gratified growl emerging from deep within his gut.   
Without pulling either of your pants up, Murphy spins you around to face him, inhaling deeply on the smoke that still clung to his lips.   
“Fuck my brother all you want, but at the end of it, you have to come back to me.”   
The look in his eyes was truthful and you knew that his command that he was demanding of you was labored in love.   
“Always.”


	14. 50 Shades of Murph

The harsh sound of metal on metal rang in your ears as you pulled the door open to the loft. You had managed to leave the bar fairly early this evening, however, fairly early to you was still well after midnight.  
The disgrace of an apartment met you welcomingly with a full moon shining in through the vaulted ceiling made of windows, and a dark haired man sat at a flimsy table in the corner, dragging on a half killed cigarette; his skin so milky pale that it stood out in the darkness of the room.   
“Hey,” Murphy MacManus greeted you with a slight tone of surprise. “I wasn’t expected you home for a while.”  
“I wasn’t expecting it either, but you know how Doc is. When he’s done for the night, he’s done.” You dropped your bag on the floor and make quick work of tossing your boots triumphantly across the room.  
You saunter over to Murphy, who sat wide legged and slouched down in one of the three mismatched chairs that sat around the table. You swing your legs over Murphy’s lap, straddling him so that your arms could link behind his neck and your noses could meet for mere seconds before your lips found his.   
Words weren’t needed with Murphy. The connection that lived between you was nothing short of electric. Your tongues rolled against each other’s passionately as he gently tugged at your dark locks while running his other hand up the length of your spine. You could feel him push you into his chest, and you tightened your arms around his neck in turn, wanting to be as close to him as was physically capable.   
Murphy’s hands slid beneath your shirt and you quickly aided him in shedding the cotton tank top, leaving it in a crumpled heap on the floor. You felt his lips massage your collarbone first, then travel up your neck. You ran your fingers through his shaggy head of hair and press your hips forcefully into his stomach; instantly feeling something strong growing below you in Murphy’s lap.   
Murphy’s fingers begin to fumble messily with the hooks of your bra, kissing you all the while, when a sudden burning sensation catches you off guard.  
“Fuck! Murph!” You exclaim, knowing instantly that he had caught you with the lit end of his cigarette that still hung in between the fingers that were attempting to remove your bra.   
“Jesus. I’m sorry.” Murphy immediately throws his hands up in the air as if he were surrendering, though does not discard the smoldering smoke.   
Staring at his face, the instant of anger passes as quickly as it had come. Murphy is wearing a sheepish smile as you move to take his cigarette away. You take a long last drag off of it before tossing it into the near over flowing ashtray that sat in the center of the table.   
Holding the smoke deep in your chest, you turn to Murphy, grabbing his face with your right hand, forcing your mouth over his. Your tongues take turns dancing in between your mouth and his as the smoke exhales from your lungs and into his, before escaping both of you and rising towards the ceiling.   
“Mmm. I do love you, you know that?” Murphy groans as your lips part ways and he stares at you through pierced blue eyes.   
You take him all in before you reply, recording every part of him to your memory. He had one lock of hair that was slightly longer than the rest, as if it had been somehow missed during his last trim. His perfect beauty mark sat just above his upper lip and a light path of freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose. Murphy had a deep scar below his left eye, something you had never asked about but had always assumed he had picked up in some bar fight over the years. Dark hair grew in a patchy pattern across both of his cheeks and chin, as shaving daily was far down the list of Murphy’s priorities.   
“Wow. This is awkward… Don’t get me wrong, you’re great and all, but love? I’m not sure if I’m quite ‘there’ yet, you know?” A smile spreads across your cheeks and Murphy wears one that matches as you tease him.   
“Aye?” Murphy’s hands quickly attack your bare skin, grabbing at your abdomen, tickling you until you scream for him to stop and try to get away.   
You manage to escape Murphy’s lap and run several feet, only to have him tackle you down to the mattress that lay in the middle of the apartment’s concrete floor.   
“No, no! Murph, please! Please! Stop! I’m begging you!”   
Murphy continues to tickle you, making you scream like a high school girl.   
“This won’t be the last time you beg me for something tonight.” Murphy pins you down and grinds harshly into you, kissing you and sucking at your bottom lip.   
“I love you, Murphy MacManus. I love you more than I have ever loved any person in my entire life,” the words were pouring from your mouth unprovoked, you had never confessed feelings of this magnitude to anyone before, “I have never felt like I truly needed anyone before. I always thought that if it came down to it, I would be better off on my own. Then I met you, and that all changed. I don’t know what is more terrifying to me; the realization of how much I actually need you, or the fear of being without you.”   
Murphy’s eyes were studying you closely, hanging on your every word as your emotions spewed from you like verbal vomit.   
“I have to tell you something.” Murphy moved quickly into the sitting position, crossing his legs Indian style beneath him on the bed.   
“Okay?” You sat up across from him, your eyes meeting his gaze.   
“Yesterday, on your night off, while you were home sleeping, I went to the bar.”   
A pit had risen in your stomach at an alarming rate as Murphy spoke.   
“There was a man there, some scrawny, bespectacled fuck.”   
“Okay?” You weren’t positive of where this story was going, but the tone in Murphy’s voice was more than foreboding.   
“He was asking a lot of questions. Questions about you.”  
Murphy was looking at his lap as he spoke.   
“He talked to Doc for a while, and I just overheard mostly. He said he had been hired by your parents to find you. Apparently there is some reward posted in several states for information on your whereabouts. Someone called, said they picked you up hitchhiking and dropped you at the 7-11 down the street from McGinty’s.”  
You groan and place your face down into the palms of your hands. That asshole Leo did really love to talk, didn’t he?  
“Doc lied. He said he’d never seen you. Doc never was one to sell anyone out. The guy didn’t seem to really buy it though. He asked Bob Perkins if he’d seen you and of course the fucking idiot spouts off that he sees you all the time before Doc told him to shut his damn mouth.”  
You groan even louder, throwing yourself violently backwards onto the bed. If your mother and father had hired someone to find you, the likely hood of him going away was pretty slim. You were sure he was handsomely compensated for his time and efforts.   
“Why didn’t Doc say anything to me when I was at work tonight?” You ask as you stared up at the night sky through the loft’s translucent ceiling.   
“I told him I would talk to you about it. I think he figured it wasn’t his place.”   
You feel Murphy’s fingers trace the outline of your exposed hipbone that jutted out just about the start of your jeans.   
“You’re not, like, ‘wanted’ for something, are you?”   
You could tell that Murphy was horribly curious but was trying desperately to refrain from showing any signs of judgment in his voice.   
You let out a small laugh.  
“You waited six month to ask me if I’m a fugitive?”  
“What do I care if you are? Who am I to judge what life you had before we met?”   
You turn your head to look at Murphy, showing him a smile reserved only for moments of the deepest emotional connection.   
“No. I’m not a fugitive. I just have insanely possessive, yet neglectful parents who have more money than they do sense. I’m sure they probably tried to get the police looking for me, but since I’m over 18, that h gotten them very far, so they must have hired out to some scum private investigator. For the life of me, I don’t know what they want with me. This is the most interest they’ve ever showed in my since the day I was born.”   
“I don’t know, if I found out you just up and disappeared, I’d want ya back.” Murphy smirked at you as he teasingly pinched your abdomen once more.   
“I’m sorry, Captain Hypocrisy. Who ran away from Ireland with his twin brother and has never elaborated on that gem of a story? You telling me you don’t have parents who have no idea where their sons are?”   
“Trust me, baby. My Ma, wouldn’t be payin’ any P.I. to come find me and Connor. She loved us and all, but I think she wanted us gone just as much as we wanted to leave. Con and I were always in a lot of trouble growin’ up. We caused our Ma plenty of stress. It was never easy on her, raising us all on her own…” Murphy trailed off as he too looked up towards the sky above you. “She did the best she could have, I suppose.”   
“Where was your Dad? Did you ever know him?” This was the first time either one of the boys had ever spoken about their parents. You had always assumed it was a touchy subject, much like the relationship between you and your own parents, so you tended to avoid that particular matter.   
“Ah, I have no idea where my Da is. We saw a few old photos of him growing up, but supposedly he took off before we were even born. My Ma said he had promised to come back, but then he never did. She didn’t know if he was dead, or if he had just decided he didn’t want her or us. Either way though, the end result was the same.”   
“I’m sorry,” Your statement was meant with sincerity but feared it may have sounded a little flat.   
Murphy smiled at you for your attempt. “Nothin’ to be sorry about. It’s done. You’re Da stuck around and apparently struggled to impress. Maybe ours did us a favor by walkin’ out.”   
“They’re going to find me now,” you say flatly, knowing that being reunited with your mother and father had officially become inevitable.   
“So what if they do? This is your life now. Boston, me, Connor. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate them bringing you into this world and all, but you’re mine now, and they sure as shit can’t have you back.”   
Murphy leans forward and kisses you wildly, grabbing you by the back of the neck, as if he could prove his words true just by kissing you hard enough.   
You begin to yank hard on his t-shirt, pulling it quickly over his extended arms and head, before making your way to the belt wrapped around his waist.   
Once his jeans had been tossed away, Murphy pushed you down onto your back as he moved down to your abdomen, kissing and licking as he went. Your pants are gone in an instant as he bites tenderly on your hip before starting to pull down your underwear with his teeth. As he neared your core a twitch of longing ran through your body, making you respond instantly to the heat of his breath on your inner thighs.   
Your panties quickly joined the rest of your cloths scattered across the floor and Murphy begins to lick the length of your inner legs. Reaching your center, Murphy’s tongue moves painfully slow, tracing every line and curve of you, causing you to jut your pelvis forward, begging him for more rapid lapping.   
“Oh yeah? That what you want, baby? You want my tongue?”  
Murphy’s eye peak up at you from between your legs as you lift your head to look down.   
“Among other things…” You give him a devilish smile as you bite your lip.  
“What else do you want exactly? Tell me.”   
“Maybe that thing that’s currently pulsating against my calf? That thing sounds pretty tempting.”  
You laugh and Murphy looks down to smile.  
“How about you ask me a little nicer? Or maybe you won’t get anything at all. You going to be my good girl, or not?”   
Murphy’s eyes were hungry and you could feel yourself falling into the submissive role you knew he wanted you to play.   
“ I’ll be a good girl. I promise. I just want you to fuck me, Mr. MacManus.”  
Murphy’s tongue quickly traces his upper lip.   
“That’s more fucking like it.”   
Your center aches to have Murphy’s tongue make contact once more and you open your thighs wider in front of him.   
“You didn’t say ‘please’, did ya?”  
Murphy’s beautiful Irish accent was thick with desire, but you knew he had full intention on withholding himself as long as possible.   
“Please?” You bite down on your bottom lip, hard.  
“Nah. It’s too late for that, love. You need to earn my cock, if that’s what you want.”   
“Tell me what I have to do.”  
Murphy gets up on his knees and places two strong hands on either one of your thighs, fingers digging deep into your pale skin, desperate to leave bruises in their wake.   
“Flip the fuck over. Now.”   
You instantly obey and turn over onto your hands and knees with the aid of Murphy guiding your hips. Murphy pushes his pelvis onto your ass, taunting you with his rigid crotch against your hot skin.  
“What are you going to do with me, Mr. MacManus?” Your voice quivers with longing as you feel Murphy grip your ass painfully.  
“You don’t get to ask questions. I’ll do what I want, when I want, and I’ll give you exactly what you want, only when I think you’ve earned it. Understand?”  
“No. I don’t think I do. What if I don’t give a shit about your rules?” You can’t help but taunt him, to egg him on. You want to see exactly how far he’d go to dominate you.  
You hear a scarp from the hard floor behind you seconds before you feel the harsh pain of Murphy’s belt lay across the skin of your ass. You cry out loudly.  
“Ya going to fuckin’ listen now? Huh?”  
Murphy’s voice is raised, booming as it echoes off of the cold concrete.   
“Fucking make me. That all you got, baby?”   
Murphy then forced your face down into the mattress below before pulling both of your arms back behind you.  
“If you can’t obey, then you’ll be punished.”   
You wait as the weight on the bed shifts; Murphy then produces something that had been pushed under the end of the mattress.   
Rope burns sting your skin as Murphy quickly binds your wrists to your ankles.   
The sinful sound of skin on skin meets your ears as Murphy plants a vicious slap on your right ass cheek. You grunt into the old mattress lowly, burying your face, preparing yourself for another strike, but instead, you feel Murphy’s tongue lapping at the spot where his hand just, planting loving affection to ease your raw skin.  
Your rigid body relaxes slightly, enjoying the small moment of affection Murphy allows you, until you feel a ferocious bite on the opposite cheek.  
“Fucking hell! Murphy,” you scream, tears gushing down your cheeks and running onto the old blanket below.   
“You going to be my good girl now? You want a reward?”  
“Yes.”  
“Yes, what?”  
“Yes, Mr. MacManus. Please give me my reward.”  
“Good girl.”  
Gripping your hips strongly in his palms, Murphy plunges into you, the walls of your sex aching around him, as you choke and cough on the moans desperately trying to escape you.   
“You like that, baby?”  
Your mind can’t focus enough to form words. You feel Murphy buck against you, fucking you deeper and deeper with every violent thrust. You feel the evidence of your anticipation running down the inside of your thighs, grateful to finally have Murphy inside of you.   
“Tell me how bad you want this, Rylee. Or maybe I’ll take it away.” Murphy’s voice is strained. You know he is trying to hide his deep moans, disguising them as growls in between each word he utters.   
“Please don’t stop, baby, please. I need this. I need you. Fuck me. Never stop fucking me.” You pull against your restraints, your body trying to escape, trying to flex and stretch with each pump of Murphy’s hips. Murphy, however, had made sure that the knots were tight and that you were not going anywhere.   
Murphy reaches one hand down underneath you, thumbing that nerve filled point between our legs, making you scream obscenities as loud as your lungs would allow.   
“Don’t you come, baby. Not yet. That’s against the rules. You only get to come once I do. When I tell you to. You hold your shit together.” Murphy grunts, not missing even a single thrust in his deliciously rhythmic motion.   
You bite your lips painfully hard, trying desperately to steady yourself, to pace the eruption that is aching deep within you, demanding to be set free. You want to allow yourself to fall over that edge, to drown in the orgasm that could wash over you at any given moment, but you fight it, you hold off for Murph.   
“Is that it? I thought you promised me a reward? How about you fuck me like you mean it? Show me what it is that I’m supposed to be coming for?” Your words are muffled against the cotton of the bedspread, but they still are enough to fuel Murphy’s fire to an eruption that you had no idea he was capable of.   
Murphy instantly throws his hands down, gripping your restraints, and pulling you into him, forcing you to move back and forth against his stationary pelvis; adding all new depths to each penetration.   
“Shit! Murph! I can’t hold…” You lose grip on your words and on reality. Without warning you feel your orgasm erupt violently within you, the walls of your core pulsating and gripping Murphy, causing him quickly to follow you in his release. A hot gush lets lose from between your legs, running like a river down both your legs, as well as Murph’s.   
Murphy continues to move you against him as both of you ride your climaxes to their final, weak pulse, before collapsing beside you on the bed. His hands quickly remove your restraints and then pull you into him. You feel his nose nuzzle itself deep into the slope of your neck, his lips kissing you gently there.   
Neither of you speak, but instead lay there. You count his heartbeats that you can feel thumping against your bare back, until they have slowed down to a resting rhythm. Murphy’s breath becomes low and steady and you know that he is asleep.   
You kiss the tips of each finger on Murphy’s left hand before slowly easing yourself out from under his arm, heading across the room to the single toilet that sat next to the shower drain.   
After you had finished, you slowly stood up, rubbing the obvious rope marks that Murphy’s restraints had left behind on your raw skin, just when you catch your own reflection in the apartment’s one and only grubby mirror. You examine your face through the water spots that permanently resided on the glass, then turn around, standing on the tips of your toes.   
Your ass just barley comes into view, and you trace Murphy’s bite mark with our left index finger, wiping away a small trace of blood, a smile moving slowly across our face.


	15. Caught

Chapter Fifteen:

 

“Hey Darlin’. Who do I have to fuck to get a shot in this place?”   
You had your back turned and were filling and empty glass to the brim with a dark, amber brew when you heard Connor’s accent floating in from behind you.   
“You could start with Doc, I hear he gets lonely at night.”   
You handed a balding man by the name of Miles Sullivan, his draft and turned around to face Connor, who had plopped himself down at the bar, shrugging his black pea coat off of his broad shoulders.   
“God you’re so hilarious, where did you ever learn to be so funny?” Connor asked, his words drenched in a thick coating of sarcasm.   
“My father told me that my looks weren’t enough to get me through life, that I had to be intriguing, classy, and elegant too. I figured being funny was easier.”   
You pour Connor a shot of Jack from a half killed bottle.  
“That man’s a fucking liar. I do believe that that ass of yours is enough to get you through any of life’s many trials and tribulations.”   
Connor threw the shot back, kicking back slightly on his bar stool as the warm booze ran down his throat.   
“Connor MacManus, you do know how to woo a girl, don’t you?” You stare at Connor from your place behind the bar. He had dark bags embedded under each eye, and a scruff across his face that gave away his secret of not sleeping or shaving for several days.   
“No, not girls. You. I know how to woo you. You’re awfully proud of that ass of yours; which you have every right to be proud. It’s glorious.”   
Connor leaned his head onto his palm as he teased you, looking as if any moment he might actually fall victim to sleep.   
“Connor you stop it right now, or I’m going to have no choice but to marry your Irish ass right here on the spot. How can a girl turn down such shameless flattery?”   
You flash Connor a teasing smile as you pour him a second shot.  
“I may have taken you up on that the night we met. You were so god damn beautiful. I would have followed you to hell and back.”   
You noted a slice of bitterness spread across Connor’s voice as you watched him stare into his drink before throwing it back.   
“You don’t want to go to hell with me anymore, Con?” You ask in a sugar coated, pleading voice; your attempt at shaking him from the awkwardness.   
Connor slowly looked up at you from his empty glass. Your eyes meet and lock. He gives you a knowing look that you recognize from the first time you saw him. Connor had been your destiny that night, of that you had no doubt. Your entire life had lead up to the moment that you had walked into McGinty’s; the moment that Connor offered you a cigarette.   
“I still might.”   
It was a slow night at the bar, so slow in fact that Doc had abandoned his post at the bar and asked you to lock up after the last few stragglers made their way back to home to their beds.   
Connor had strutted in after leaving the plant; looking for a drink and some company. Murphy, you were sure, was home sleeping off a grueling 18-hour shift and you were positive that you were unlikely to see him until this time tomorrow.   
Connor and Miles were the only men at the bar, straddling stools and leaning against the faded oak. The rest of the place was empty with the exception of a loudly laughing table in the back that was full of rowdy young men; likely college kids who had some stupid bucket list of visiting every bar in Boston, as they were not regulars and neither you nor Connor had ever seen them before.   
“What do you say? One more shot then we kick the fucking children and Miles here to the curb? Go home?” Connor asked, his question quickly followed by a low grunt from the corner of the bar. “No offense there, Miles.”   
Miles nodded at Connor, acknowledging his apology, and then returned to his tall glass.   
“Connor MacManus, are you tired? You sound like an old man over here. Wanting to go home and sleep. What happened to the lively Irish boy I met at this same bar at 2AM? Huh?” You mock Connor’s exhaustion as you pour him his third shot.  
“How come your fucking boyfriend gets to go to sleep, huh? You know that little bastard Murph has been out for hours. You’re not mocking him and calling him old.”  
Connor rubbed a callused hand through his dishwater blonde hair, half glaring up at you as he raised the shot glass to his lips.  
“I know, I know. Murphy is just so cute though. Precious babe.” Your words are swimming in singsong rhythm that sounds like it just escaped directly out of a Disney movie.   
Connor rolls his eyes as he swallows his shot.   
“You two make me fucking sick.”  
“Con, come on. You don’t mean it. I think you’re cute too…”  
You run your hand down his cheek, getting unbelievable satisfaction through your shameless teasing.   
Just before Connor could open his mouth to spout his retort, the heavy wooden door to McGinty’s was pushed open and a man walked through the threshold who you’d never seen before.   
He was thin, balding, and wore glasses with thick lenses held in the wire frames. He dawned a tan trench coat that sported tiny droplets of water that let you know it had started to rain outside. The man’s lips were badly chapped and his eyes immediately began to scan the bar’s tables.   
“Who the fuck is this guy?” Connor growled through a closed mouth at you.  
“Shit.” You knew who it was as soon as you had laid eyes on him. This man had to be the private investigator that your parents had hired. He was far from the type that McGinty’s usually attracted, and the way he was surveying the place already had you on edge.   
“I think that’s the P.I. guy that Murphy told me about. The one that was in here badgering Doc.”   
“Shit.” Connor’s voice mirrored your tone, as he too seemed to realize the likelihood of this man’s identity. “Jump down behind the bar.”  
“What?”  
“Just do it! Get down before the prick sees you.”   
Connor spoke as he jumped from his place on the barstool to the surface of the bar; swinging his legs over before leaping to floor where you stood.  
You jumped down onto your hands and knees just as you saw the man begin to turn your way. You slide your back up against the shelves that lay beneath the bar, stirring up dust as you move.   
You then hear the man’s footsteps making their way ominously towards the bar as Connor grabs a rag and starts to wipe down the sticky surface casually.   
“Aye, what can I do for you tonight?”   
Connor’s voice rang out higher than usual and you hoped it didn’t sound near as suspicious and fake to the man as it obviously did to you.   
“I’m looking for a woman, early twenties. I have reason to believe she frequents this bar on a semi regular basis.”  
“Does this look like the kind of place any self respecting woman would frequent? It’s kind of an all boy’s club in here most nights.”  
You quickly reach your arm out to pinch Connor’s calf, letting him know that his ‘self respecting woman’ comment had not gone unnoticed.   
Connor’s legs were tense and locked beneath his faded jeans. After receiving the pinch, Connor quickly kicks lightly back at you with his thick steel-toed boots.   
“None the less, I was told she is often here. Have you seen this girl?”   
Connor leans forward and takes a photo from the man’s offered hand.   
“Can’t say that I have. What did you say her name was?” Connor’s mocking curiosity spread a smile across your face as you stared up at him from your place on the floor.   
“Rylee. Rylee Wood.”  
“What’s she wanted for? Did she kill somebody?” Connor’s facade was completely transparent to you, but the man seemed to be buying into it.   
You leaned further back against the shelves, watching Connor move above you, the dim florescent lighting dancing across Connor’s flushed skin.   
The front of Connor’s black t-shirt was tucking into the front of his pants, buried beneath his belt buckle, where as the rest of the cotton material laid freely over the top of his jeans. Connor’s rosary hung loosely around his neck, swinging back and forth as he wiped the same spot on the bar for the third time.   
While talking, Connor moved his right hand down, placing it in his right front pocket. As he did so, he pulled the denim down just enough that a tan hipbone became instantly visible.   
As if a shock had run through you, you slowly ease your way the two feet to where Connor has his legs spread apart. You touch him on his right ankle, alerting him to your presence below. Without missing a beat in his conversation with the P.I., Connor picks up his right foot, allowing you to inch your way to sit between his wide calves.   
“No, she didn’t kill someone. I’ve been hired by her parents to track her down. Apparently she took off from home and they’d like to know her location.”  
“So you’re not a cop then?”  
Realizing the opportunity that you had in front of you, you begin to rub your hands up and down the backs of Connor’s legs, making him twitch at the unexpected touch. Connor’s thighs were thick and flexed while talking to the stranger.   
You lean your head all the way back to peer upwards. Connor had pushed himself forward onto the bar, casually leaning into the conversation he was having. Careful not to draw any attention, your hands push up the front of Connor’s jeans, applying pressure before grabbing a hold of his worn belt buckle.   
You smile devilishly to yourself as you hear Connor inhale sharply while you quickly yank down his zipper. Within moments you have successfully retrieved what it is you were looking for. Connor instantly gains noticeable girth the moment your fingertips make contact with the tender skin of his shaft; pulling him out of his jeans and bringing him directly to your eye level.   
“No, I’m not a cop, technically. Like I said; Ms. Wood hasn’t broken any laws to my knowledge. I can’t force her to go anywhere. Her parents have just paid me a significant amount of money to enlighten them about her current whereabouts.” The man’s voice was littered with the sound of annoyance as Connor questioned his credentials.   
“Must have been a significant amount to bring you to fucking Boston from…where was it you said she was from?” You were impressed, Connor’s voice sounded quite stable as you stroked him to solid state; something you took as a personal challenge.   
“Salt Lake City.”  
“Utah?”  
“Yes, Utah. That is where Salt Lake is.” The man’s patients seemed to be already growing rather thin with Connor.   
“Why do you think they want her back? Girl’s twenty-two fuckin’ years old, ain’t she? She’s free to do as she likes.”   
Connor was now sporting a full erection, something you were more than entertained with as he continued on with his conversation.   
“I don’t tend to question my clients’ motives when they hire me. In fact, they usually pay me not to.”  
You slowly lean into Connor, flicking your tongue playfully over the slit. The contact instantly makes Connor’s knees slightly give way and his thigh muscles twitch, but he quickly regains his composure for the conversation at hand.   
“You know, I don’t recall telling you that she was twenty-two. Are you absolutely positive that you haven’t had any contact with Ms. Wood?” The man’s voice had switched from annoyed to accusatory.   
Your eyes upwards, watching Connor for any reaction, you grip him tightly in your right hand, massaging the shaft as you delicately wrap your tongue around Connor’s pulsating head.   
“Nah. Lucky guess is all. You said early twenties. I took a shot in the dark.”   
Connor was doing surprisingly well at keeping the P.I. non-the wiser, and was not giving you even near the gratification that you were looking for.   
“Right. Well, can I leave you my card? So you can give me a call if you see her?”   
You hear shuffling above you as the man checked his person for any stray contact cards he may have.   
While the man is occupied, you quickly take this opportunity to engulf Connor in all his rigid glory, gaining an extremely satisfying moan from Connor’s lips as you did so. You hold him in your mouth for a moment, savoring the salty taste of his skin and the impressive magnitude that Connor offers, before slowly removing him, trailing your tongue against his skin as you went.   
“I’m sorry, what was that?”   
Connor’s moan had not gone unnoticed.   
“Aye, I said you can do whatever you like, but even if I see the girl I won’t be calling ya.” Connor’s defiance surprised you. You would have guessed he’d try to get the man to leave at all costs, not keep him around to argue.   
“And why is that, may I ask?”   
Gripping tightly around Connor’s thighs, you move your head back and forth in a fluid motion between his legs; taking him in as deeply as you can with every stroke. You can feel Connor’s cock pulse in your mouth with the excitement of the moment, thick nectar rising to his tip for your tongue to lap at.   
“The girl left home for a fucking reason. Why would I help you stir shit up for her when she’s probably just out trying to get a new start?”   
Connor’s voice was strained now; it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to hide the pleasure behind his voice, let alone concentrate on the man’s words.   
You drag your teeth playfully across the painfully sensitive skin that has grown tight over Connor’s shaft and head, causing bumps to pimple across the skin on the rest of his body. You grip him tightly in one hand as you bob up and down against him, reaching up to massage beneath his shaft with the opposite palm.   
Your eyes shoot upwards. Connor is still leaning against the bar, but now he had put his fist in front of his mouth, obviously trying to conceal any further sounds of gratification.   
“I’m not the bad guy here, okay? I’m just here doing what I was paid to do. It’s my job to find her, and that’s what I’m going to do. And quite frankly, I don’t need you give me shit over it.” The man had jumped on the defensive, his voice sounding more and more offended with every exchange.   
“Well, no offense, but your job is bull shit. Why don’t you go and get a real profession, huh? One that doesn’t involve stalking young women, maybe?”   
This time, Connor had actually choked on the word ‘maybe,’ which followed a painfully long pause, making you wonder if the man was becoming aware to the oddness of the situation.   
Although trying to hide the reality of the situation, Connor was fighting a losing battle. His hips had begun rolling against your mouth, helping him to go deeper with every new plunge into you. You had watched his abs and pelvic muscles tighten and contour in front of your eyes, and more and more hot liquid was quickly filling your mouth with every twist of your tongue.   
“What did you say your name was? The last time I came in here there was an old man working behind the bar.” You could hear the doubt in the man’s voice as he questioned Connor’s identity.   
“Connor MacManus. I’m a friend of the owner. He isn’t feeling well.”   
Connor had been reduced to simple, to the point answers now and had taken to biting his fist in between conversation points.   
“Connor… MacManus?”   
You hear scratching on paper and knew that the P.I. was writing down Connor’s name as a reference point.   
“Aye.” Connor whined.  
You could hear Connor’s panting above you and knew he must be pouring sweat. Every muscle in his body was contracted and aching, you knew he was painfully close, ready to release at any given moment.   
Connor leaned even further onto the bar in an attempt to hide the fact that he was snapping his hips back and forth, desperate to reach the climax that you had built him up to. You wrap your lips tightly around him, adding further to the delicious suction that Connor’s head was popping in and out of.   
Connor suddenly throws his left down and grips a hand full of your hair tightly, holding your head still as you pounds into it vigorously. His breathing stops as he finally lets loose into you. Hot fluid fills your mouth as you continue to embrace Connor with your mouth, savoring him and all he has to offer.   
You feel Connor’s entire body relax as you slowly remove him from your mouth, kissing him on his tip before allowing him to quickly yank himself back behind his zipper.   
“Alright, Mr. MacManus, so it’s your name that I should give to Rylee’s parents then?”  
You freeze where you are, still cowering between Connor’s legs.  
“Excuse me? Why would you give ‘em my name?”   
“Well, if I’m to gather anything from our conversation that we just had, I’d assume that you’re her boyfriend? Or does she often blow random bartenders around Boston?”   
You close your eyes, cursing yourself under your breath.   
Connor doesn’t say a word, but just stands there in silence, staring down the man.   
“ Well thank you for all your information, I really do appreciate the help. Have a good night, Mr. MacManus.”  
You can hear the scrap of a barstool being pushed away from the bar as the man stands up to leave.  
“…And you do the same, Ms. Wood. I assume you’ll be hearing from your parents very soon.”


	16. Focus on Connor

Chapter Sixteen:

 

“Hey sleeping fucking beauty. I made you some coffee.”  
The smell of black coffee came wafting in through your nostrils as you clench your eyes tighter, trying to hang on to the sleep you had just been stirred out of.   
Murphy was sitting Indian style on the concrete floor, waving the aroma of coffee towards your face with his hand.   
“What time is it?” You groan, still not willing to fully open your eyes, but reaching blindly for the caffeine.  
“It’s five, babe. I just got home. Con’s on his way. He was about done when I left.”  
“Shit, how is it five?”  
“Well, you laid down at six, right before I left for work. That was eleven hours ago, which would make it five.”  
Murphy was brushing hair from your face, smiling through his condescension.   
“You think you’re so damn cute,” you growl as you sit up in order to drink from your chipped mug.   
“No, YOU think I’m so damn cute. You really are good for my self esteem.”   
Murphy lit a cigarette, took two drags, and offered it to you, knowing full well that the best way to bring you into normality from a deep sleep was with coffee and smokes.   
“You want to talk about what happened last night?”

After returning home from McGinty’s the night before, Connor had all but collapsed into bed, sleeping before he had even made contact with the mattress. You had sat down on the floor and pulled the heavy work boots off of his feet, allowing him to stretch and sleep peacefully before his 7 AM shift began.  
You, however, were miles away from rest. You had journeyed up to the rooftop, peering out into the endless sea of lights before you, wondering endlessly about why your parents didn’t have the common decency to leave you the hell alone.   
You cringed at the phone call you were positive that fuck P.I. had made to them as soon as he left the bar. He probably caught them just before bed, (it was roughly 10 o’clock in Salt Lake at the time when he left the bar), and you doubted that he had spared any details in the story of how exactly he had found their beloved daughter.   
You could all but hear your father’s voice now; ‘She was doing what in the bar? With who? Jesus Christ.’ You were positive that your parents at this very moment where conversing about how you had run away from how to live a life of drug abuse and prostitution half way across the country.   
With any luck, that would make them not want to see you.  
What was their grand plan anyway? It’s not like they could force you to come home. You were home. This shit apartment, and those two sleeping Irish twins downstairs were all you had ever wanted in life. Ross and Lucy Wood could go fuck themselves. 

“What did Con tell you?” You sat with your knees up and your feet pigeon toed on the concrete floor in front of you.   
“Told me that the P.I. found you…with Connor’s dick in your mouth.”   
You roll your eyes as you take another long drag off of your cigarette.  
“Quite the impression to give Ma and Da of the new life style, don’t you think?”  
You stared at Murphy in shock for a few seconds before answering.  
“Excuse me? Are you actually worried about what my parents are going to think of you and Connor?” Your voice was raised and you put your coffee cup down on the floor beside your feet.  
“No, I…”  
“Good, because they could have walked in on us sprawled out on the floor, writing out my M.I.T. application, or with us fucking doggie style while I blew Connor; the outcome would be the same. They’re not going to like you.”  
Murphy was looking at his feet while you spoke, and only decided to make eye contact with you once the room had once again fallen silent. His blue eyes pierced you with guilt and you hated yourself for becoming that girl that you used to be in front of him; the girl who hated everyone, and was endlessly bitter and hopeless.   
“I’m sorry. I just… I don’t want you to have expectations that they’re good people. I don’t want to hide you from them because I’m ashamed of you, of Connor, or of our life. I don’t want you to see them because they don’t deserve you. You’re better than they are, Murph. You’re everything to me.”   
Still seated on the mattress, you held your arms out in front of you, giving Murphy the signal that you wanted him to come to you. Wearing an unsure look upon his face, Murphy crossed the dusty floor, dropping to his knees and leaning heavily against you. Allowing yourself to fall backwards onto the bed, Murphy falls with you, laying his right cheek against the warm skin of your chest.   
You run your fingers through his messy hair, twirling random curls between your index finger and thumb.   
“You really are ashamed of them, aren’t you?” Murphy’s voice was uncommonly quiet, as if he were whispering words he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear.   
“Yes. I am. I don’t know why they are so determined to find me, but once they do, it will be only a matter of time before they will lose interest again. They always do.”   
“When they do, I’ll be here.” Murphy kisses your chest as you trace the inside of his ear with the tip of your finger.   
“You know I’m not leaving with them, right? You and Connor can’t get rid of me that easily.”  
“You don’t miss your big house?” Murphy sounded strangely juvenile when he asked this, his voice reminding you of a small boy who didn’t understand why anyone would ever want to leave home.  
“When I was in that house, I missed you. You were all I ever dreamed about, and I had never even met you. I knew it was you though, the very second you brought me burnt bacon and bad coffee. I looked into your face and knew that I had found you. You’re mine, Murphy. You’re my soul mate.”   
“Wow. That must be the most romantic thing I have ever heard. How did you feel when you remembered you had just got done fucking your soul mate’s brother? Did it take away from the moment a little bit?”  
You quickly lick your finger and dig it deep into Murphy’s ear; giving him an unpleasant wet Willy as punishment for his smart-ass remark. Murph quickly leans down to bite your side in retaliation; the two of you lost in mess of limbs, each trying to inflict some form of pain or unpleasant act on the other.   
Throwing your legs apart widely, Murphy climbs between them, attempting to bite at your bare thighs. You can’t help but scream for him to stop and beg his forgiveness for your completely out of line damp finger in the ear.   
Not accepting your apology, Murphy continues to nip at your milky legs while you try desperately to crawl away from him. Pinning your legs down and not letting you get so much as an inch away from him, Murphy begins to bite harder and higher up, making you literally scream at the top of your lungs for him to let you go; your legs being shamefully ticklish.   
Grabbing a hold of your hips, Murphy yanks you down closer to him, bringing him perfectly level with the center between your thighs. Without a fraction of hesitation, Murphy pushes aside the black cotton panties that you had been sleeping in and begins ferociously investigating all of your many inner folds and nerves.   
You arch your back and jut your hips upward into Murphy’s mouth, adding to the friction currently being generated by his tongue. You run your feet down Murphy’s bare back, locking your ankles and resting your thighs on top of Murphy’s shoulder blades.   
Murphy sucks and teasingly bites all of your most sensitive pleasure points, causing you to choke on the moans quickly escaping you. Murphy moves his tongue in quick, fluid motions, managing to not neglect even a single sensitive area as he slowly pushes two fingers deep within you. You clench your teeth together, arching upwards once more, rolling your hips along with the motion of Murphy’s penetrating digits.   
Murphy was lapping up every drop of liquid sex you had to offer, pushing his fingers in deeper and faster, constantly trying to generate more. You clench your thighs tightly around Murph’s head, moaning his name over and over with each new thrust of his hand.   
Just then the metal on metal sound of the loft’s door sounded, making Murphy peak up from between your legs.   
“Am I interrupting?” Connor hung his rosary on the hook next to the door as he slid it closed once more behind him. His eyes traveled down you as you laid sprawled out across the bed, wearing one of his old t-shirts and panties; then to Murphy, who though was looking at him, had not moved from his place between your locked ankles.   
You were panting still, trying to catch your breath, when you feel Murphy’s thumb being to slowly massage your clit in a counter clockwise motion. You look down and see that he is still staring at Connor as he discreetly continues to pleasure you.   
“Connor. Take off your fucking cloths.” Your voice cracks as you speak, your thighs twitching slightly on top of Murphy’s broad, pale shoulders.   
As if obeying an order he was begging to be given, Connor shreds his cloths, filthy from work, and tosses his boots just beside the door. Connor walks over to the bed, stroking himself in anticipation, attempting to catch up to where you and Murphy already were.   
Connor drops onto of the mattress, hovering above you as he leans down and pushes his tongue into your mouth. You can feel the tip of his nose bump into your chin as he grabs your cheeks in his palms, kissing you passionately the very moment that Murphy’s tongue resumes contact with your aching sex. The feeling of both their tongues penetrating you, rolling against you is more than you can take.  
You cry out as your orgasm escapes you unexpectedly, shivers running down your entire body and Murphy feels your muscles pulsate against his mouth.   
Connor begins to laugh as you pant for desperately needed oxygen. “I thought coming too soon was an issue you predominantly see in men.”  
“Fuck off, Con.” You cuss, throwing your forearm over your eyes in slight embarrassment.   
“Aye. To be fair though, I did have her damn near there when you walked in anyway,” Murphy said, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.   
“Well I’m glad all it took was seeing me naked to push her completely over the edge into orgasmic Nirvana.” Connor laughed, leaning back on his hands.   
“Fuck off, both of you. Who said we’re fucking done? May I remind you that I am a woman? As the superior sex, I am capable of enjoying multiple orgasms without losing my sexual vigor. I don’t fucking go limp and ruin the fun for everybody.” Your words were painted the color of annoyance.  
“Should we be offended by that, Con?” Murph asked, leaning up from his place between your thighs.   
“I think we be offended, Murph. She thinks she’s better than us.” Connor answers, slowly pulling a stray piece of hair from your eyes.   
“Aye, she definitely does, Con. What are we to do with her?”   
“Well she’ll need to make it up to us. She needs to beg for our forgiveness.”   
A gut wrenching excitement had already wormed its way into you at the boys’ snappy banter they were sharing.  
“She can’t beg for forgiveness if she hasn’t been punished, Con.”   
“Very good point, Murph. I completely agree.”   
Without another word, Murphy gripped your thighs tight, and Connor hoisted you up by your arms as the boys began carrying you across the room, placing you standing up in the corner of the loft that was dedicated to the shower. You got the very distinct feeling that Connor and Murphy had planned this out between the two of them while you were sleeping.   
Connor quickly dashed naked back across the room and came back with the notorious black nylon rope, handing it to Murphy who looked at your mischievously.   
“Arms up.”   
You raise your arms without question, and Murphy makes quick work of binding you to the water faucet above your head.   
“Now, you’ll be a good girl and do as we say, yeah?” Connor eyes you through lustful hazels as Murph finishes binding you.   
“We’ll see.” You answer, already pushing your limits and testing the waters.   
You watch as Murphy crosses the loft to retrieve one of the mismatched chairs that sat at the card table, bringing it back over to where you hung up by the shower faucet.   
“Alright, Con. You want first crack at her?”  
“What? You fucking cheated and started without me, didn’t you?”   
A smile spread across Murphy, cheek to cheek as he looks at you from behind Connor and gives you a seductive wink.   
“Alright, alright. Take your fucking turn then, Connor.” Murphy sat down in the chair, leaning back and spreading legs as he sheds his jeans; pushing them down past his ankles and leaving them in a crumpled pile on the floor.   
Connor walks over to you and locks your gaze with his.   
“Give me your best shot, baby.” You tease him, wanting to see where this plan of his was actually leading.   
Gripping the back of your neck roughly, Connor pulls you into his mouth, rolling his tongue against yours, clashing your teeth together. You feel his hand slowly slipping down the front of your stomach, his fingers outstretched and ready as they reach between your legs, exploring you completely.   
You push your tongue deep into his mouth. Physically letting him know that you appreciate his attention. Connor rubs his hand back and fourth against your sex, coupling pressure and friction to send shock waves up your spine.   
Connor’s tongue dips into your ear as he whispers to you, “What do you want, Ry? My tongue or my cock?” His voice was husked against your skin, making you pulsate with desire at his thick accent.   
“Give me that cock, baby. Please.” Your own legs twitch as you hear the words escape past our lips.  
“Tongue it is.” Connor answers, leaning down to bite on your collarbone.   
“Fucker.” You growl under your breath as Connor drops down to his knees.  
Connor stares forward, eyeing between your legs hungrily, slicking his lips with his own tongue.   
Connor bites down on the edge of your panties and slowly pulls them down your legs using only his teeth. He takes each one of your feet in his hands as he helps you step out of them. After flinging them in Murphy’s direction, and landing them with perfect aim into his naked lap, Connor holds onto your right foot and lifts it up, throwing it behind him and pulling you forward to rest your thigh on top of his shoulder.   
Knowing what is going to happen next, you offer up your other leg, assisting Connor in lifting it up and placing it on top of his opposite shoulder, the metal faucet groaning under your weight as you dangle from it once both our legs had left the ground.   
You could feel Connor’s nose gently nudge against your center before he grabs your ass in both of his hands, shoving you forward and burying his tongue deep inside of you. Connor protrudes your sex rapidly with his tongue, moving in ample circles once inside of you.   
You arch your back, pulling against the faucet and pushing your hips forward into Connor, egging him to not forget the outside nerves in his vicious exploration of your inside walls. Knowing exactly what your hips are telling him, Connor removes his tongue and begins shamelessly sucking and lapping at your clit, making you scream his name and flood between your legs so rapidly that you can feel your fluid rushing down Connor’s chest.   
You open your eyes just long enough to glance over at Murphy who is stroking himself in a slow motion, tenderly massaging his solid erection without taking his eyes off of you.   
Clenching your teeth tightly, and moaning obscenities, you can’t help but watch Murphy touching himself, building himself up to the glorious picture of you getting off on his brother’s tongue. Your eyes lock with Murphy’s piercing baby blues, biting your lip as you fight back giving yourself away to another orgasm on a MacManus mouth.   
You watch as Murphy stares at you, knowing that you’re close to your climax for the second time within moments. Murphy’s mouth silently form the words, ‘I love you,’ as tears rush down your cheeks, unable to hold back any longer.  
Connor sucks you in repetition with every pulse of your orgasm, driving you wild and making you scream his name as you wriggle hard against his body and the shower faucet.   
Your orgasm rolls slowly through your body as Murphy rises from his chair, walking over to where you still hand limply between Connor and the wall. Murphy grabs your face between his hands, planting a mess of wet kisses against your numb lips.   
“You ready for what comes next, baby?”   
Unable to speak you simply give Murphy a weak nod as Connor escapes from between your legs.   
“Good. Connor? You ready, brother?” Murphy turns his gaze down to Connor, who was finally rising up from the floor.  
“Aye.”   
Connor roughly grabs you by both of your knees, hauling your pelvis up to meet his and thrusting his trembling shaft deep into you. You swing your body between Connor and the faucet once more, crying out as you finally feel the gratifying girth of one of the boys deep inside of you.   
“Fuck, finally!” You groan, rolling your hips against Connor as he begins slowly penetrating you in a delicious repetition. “Ah, Connor. Jesus.”   
You stare down and watch as your hips move forward to meet Connor’s, both of you bearing witness to where your delicious sex meets.   
Murphy runs his fingers up the back of your cotton shirt.   
“You’re sweating, Ry. You hot?” Murphy asked you, in between planting soft kisses against your neck.   
Unable to answer, you give an avid nod, your eyes still glued to Connor’s thrusts.   
You instantly feel cold water hit you in the face and rush down your body, adding delicious contrast to your sweltering skin and heated, aching core, as Murphy turns on the shower. Your cotton t-shirt glues itself to your skin as Murphy pushes a hand down the front, thumbing your nipples that are currently standing completely at attention.   
You look over at Murphy, water rushing down his face, plastering his hair to forehead. The two of you kiss under the gushing faucet as Murphy pushes you forward and almost upright.  
“You ready? Focus on Connor, okay? I’ll go slow, love.” Murphy whispers into your ear, quiet enough that Connor can’t hear over the rushing water.   
You suddenly feel Murphy grip your ass tightly and spread it apart, as he begins slowly pushing himself inside of you. You choke on the pain as Murphy spreads you. You desperately want to tell him to stop, but you watch Connor, you focus on him snapping himself in and out of you as Murphy pushes himself in completely, tears surfacing in your eyes once more.   
“Murph…” You moan, not knowing weather you can do this.   
“Watch Connor, baby. It’s okay.”   
His reassurances are enough for you and you do as he says.   
Water rushes down over the three of you, all of you connected to one another. Murphy begins to edge himself out before plunging back into your ass, making you cringe at the first several penetrations. Connor, knowing what Murphy is doing, begins thumbing the top of your sex, sending shock waves through your entire body, making the pain you feel behind you less and less obvious.   
You lean your head back, massaging your tongue on the inside of Murphy’s mouth, husking your undying love against his lips as he whispers his adoration in return.   
The feeling of both boys becoming more ridged inside of you is unlike anything you have ever experienced. You know that the excitement of the moment has both of them on edge. You begin to take turns rolling into both of them, receiving overly gratifying moans from both Connor and Murphy as you do so.   
As Murphy begins to lose control of himself, his pace quickens and his hips snap in a rapid, painful motion. Knowing what he needs you beg him to go faster, to fuck your ass like he means it.   
You can hear both the boys’ panting breath surrounding you, reaching ecstasy yourself knowing that the boys are both so close to their climaxes.   
“You going to come for me, Con? I need to watch you come.” You stare into Connor’s face as his eyes move upwards to meet you. Groaning viciously, Connor nods, letting you know about his upcoming eruption.   
“Come on, Con. Fuck me. Fuck me until you can’t anymore.”   
Your words tip the scales for Connor and he cries out your name, fucking you with a fury that your thighs could hardly bear.   
Murphy leans forward over your shoulder, gripping his brother from behind his neck and pulling him in for a tongue filled kiss. The sight of Connor and Murphy’s solid jaws rocking against each other, Connor panting against Murphy’s mouth as his hot orgasm filled you, was too much for you.  
“Fuck. I’m going to come again.”  
Without either of them missing a beat, the boys’ lips part ways. Murphy continues to thrust into you, holding tightly to your hips. Connor drops down to his knees once more, tonguing your core and lapping up his own climax.   
The rope tears into the skin on your wrists as you involuntarily rock against your restraints, screaming as your third and final climax sends violent shock waves through every nerve of your body.   
Witnessing your body twitch and contour as you cry the boys’ names pushes Murphy to explode inside of you, holding his breath through his final thrusts into your ass. Murphy pulls himself from you and also drops to his knees cleaning you up with his tongue as Connor continues to devour ever bit of your orgasm.   
Murphy turns off the water and kisses his way up the side of your body, slowly making his way up to your lips.   
“Fuck I’ve got to piss.” Connor quickly grabs himself and dashes over to the toilet in the opposite corner.   
Murphy unties your arms and you quickly slip on the wet floor, temporarily forgetting how to use your own limbs. Murphy catches you in his arms and hoists you up, carrying you over to the mattress in the middle of the room.  
Murphy drops you down onto the worn bed spread, slowly removing your soaked t-shirt, closely examining your damp skin. Murphy plants sweet kisses across your chest as you allow your eyes to close once more.  
You’re already drifting off to sleep when you hear Connor ask Murphy how you could possibly still be tired.


	17. Estee

Chapter Seventeen: 

The sun was just about to set when Connor came home that night. The apartment was blushed in pink light and you had been nothing short of bored to near death all day. You relished in the sound of the door finally sliding open to the loft, and quickly perked your head up off of the mattress as Connor strolled in.  
“Hey, Ry. You’re home early.”  
“I didn’t work today. I’ve been dying without you guys.”  
A wicked smile crept across Connor’s angelic face as he lit a smoke and started the mundane ritual of patting himself down looking for a light.  
“Aye why didn’t you just go out, do something?”   
Honestly, the thought hadn’t even occurred to you. Your entire life over the last few months had revolved so solely around work and the MacManus twins, that you hadn’t even thought of a single activity to occupy yourself alone.   
“I…I don’t know.” Before the thought could consume too much of her mind, Connor interrupted.  
“Well, sorry to burst your bubble sweetheart, but I’ve got plans, and Murph picked up another. You’ll be on your own again as soon as I’m out the door.”  
The relief of Connor making his way up the rickety elevator quickly evaporated in your chest. You felt your smile dissolve and throw yourself violently back onto the mattress like a child.  
“Another triple? Seriously?”   
The sun was nothing but a distant glow at the far end of the sky and the loft was quickly falling victim to darkness.   
“Hey, our boy is just trying to keep us in the lap of luxury in which we have so disgustingly become accustom to.”   
Connor was dragging on his smoke and pulling one dirty shirt off of his lean body, only to replace it quickly with another just as equally soiled.   
You watched as the muscles in Connor’s lean back twisted as he pulled his shirt over his head, an electric shock running down your spine.  
“Hey, Con, you want to get drunk, get naked, and touch each other inappropriately?”   
Biting the side of his lip between his teeth, Connor glanced at you for a moment, longingly, obviously contemplating his options at your crude proposition. His eyes trace down the length of your body, and you think for a split second you see his fingers twitch towards his belt buckle, ready and willing to unleash his pent up desire, before his mind succeeded in talking him out of it.   
“Love, you know I would like nothing more than to ride you into a puddle of your former self, but I do have somewhere to be.”  
Talking through the cigarette still placed in the corner of his mouth, Connor makes his way to the table to retrieve his black pea coat.  
“Where? Where do you have to be?” Your voice is sulky and slightly hurt.  
“A date. I have a date.”   
A wicked pang of jealousy shoots through your body, and you feel a heat rise on your skin as you watch Connor through dangerous eyes. The rage inside of you was only made increasingly worse by the fact that Connor had actually turned you down for whoever had agreed to spend the evening drinking while letting him teach her how to shoot pool.   
“Oh.”   
You quickly stand, and make your way to the sink, busying yourself with dishes that you had finished washing hours ago; desperate for some way of hinting that you didn’t give a shit where Connor was going.  
Your charade didn’t work for even a passing glance as Connor made his way over to the counter, throwing his lean arms around your waist, tucking callused fingers into your pant line.  
“Jealousy is a beautiful color on you, babe. It brings an unbelievably sexy glow to those sinfully pink cheeks of yours.”   
Connor’s husked voice mixed with his padded tongue trailing its way up the length of your neck sent shivers through your very being. They weren’t enough, however, to cool the angry heat that was currently doing summersaults in your stomach.   
“I don’t need any of your fucking pity, Con. Go. Have a good time fucking some bitch in the bathroom of a bowling alley after she spends all night telling you about her days working at 7-11, and her nights at Beauty School.”   
The words tumbled from your mouth in an angry slur, but were barely audible to you while Connor sucked and gnawed on your ear lob.   
“Fuck I love when you’re mad. You keep this shit up and I’m going to join a goddamn dating site. The night I brought what’s her name home may have been the best sex I’ve ever had.”   
Your anger was slipping through your fingers as you attempted to cling to it in a futile desperation. Connor had now stuck a hand down the front of your cleavage and was nipping at the buds on your chest with his thumb and index finger.   
“Sandy,” you groan as Connor dips his head lower to bite lovingly at your collarbone.  
“What?” he husked against your pale skin.  
“Sandy, the bitches name was Sandy.”   
Before the rest of your sentence could travel past your lips, you had already given in. You flung yourself around, backing into the kitchen counter and throwing your arms around Connor’s neck; attacking his mouth with yours.  
His tongue rocked against yours, your teeth catching each other’s in harsh clashes. You tugged at his dishwater-blonde locks and he began rubbing your sex shamelessly through your denim.   
Your hands travel up his lean and muscular torso, shoving his shirt upwards as they went, exposing his lightly tanned complexion. His jeans sat loosely on his protruding hipbones, and you can’t help but drop to your knees; only to have Connor back away.  
“Baby, I’ve really got to go. I told you…”  
“You have got to be shitting me, Con.”   
A look of pure shock and furry etched its self across your brow as you watched Connor start to slowly back away towards the door, before halting and giving you a deliciously devious smile.   
“You want to come?”  
“Yeah. I do. That was kind of the point of me dropping to my knees, Con. Foreplay?”  
“Stop being fucking cute. I’m serious. Do you want to come with me?”  
His face had ignited in an excitement you had only witnessed a few times before.   
“On your date? Pass.”   
You slowly clamber up off of the ground and lean yourself casually against the chipped counter top.   
“It’s not a typical date, love. Come with me, I’ll show you.” Connor outstretched his hand towards you. Your eyes traveled from his fingertips all the way up to meet his hazel gaze. Giving you a nod towards the door, you slowly slide your jacket off of the counter and begin to walk towards him.   
“I’m only going to go if I have free reign to do and say whatever I want to this woman. Your track record for bringing home classy finds is against you, Con.”   
“I have no delusions of ever being able to control a thing that comes out of that pretty mouth of yours; and hey, I seem to recall making a solid choice in a one night stand a while back…”   
Your fingers linked with his as he took you by the hand and lead you out to the elevator.   
“You’re taking credit for that night now? I knew I was fucking you the second I walked into that bar. Your Irish ass never stood a chance.”  
A teasing smile flashed across your face at Connor as he repeatedly pushed the down button on the metal death trap that barely passed as an elevator.   
“Well, you’re not wrong about that.” 

The taxi ride that took you and Connor under highway overpasses and down back ally roads finally ended outside of a tall brick sky scraper. The daunting building did not have any signs; no company names plastered across the door, and nothing at all to make it stand out from every other industrial looking place on the semi-deserted block. The only thing making the place unique was the brass numbered building address that had been screwed into the brick above the entrance way.   
“Where are we?”   
A cold whip of wind made you hug your sides tightly as Connor paid the taxi driver before he joined you on the curb.  
“My date.”  
“She lives here?” You asked with an undeniable tone of uncertainty.   
“I doubt she actually lives here. This is just where we agreed to, uh, meet.”  
“Connor, why do I have an undeniable feeling that there is something about this so called ‘date’ that you’re not telling me?”   
You eyed Connor through the corner of your eyes before looking up at the building that could have easily passed as a government facility.   
“Don’t you trust me? I asked you to come with me because, well, I think you’d, um, do well here.”   
Completely unsure of what Connor had meant by that, you began walking towards the door, willing to go in, if for no other reason, than to escape the chilled night air.   
Running in front of you, Connor pulled open the wide swinging door, calling you ‘Ma’ Lady’ as he did so, spreading a relaxing smile through your cheeks.   
The two of you entered into a dimly lit lobby way with a regal looking staircase in the corner, an out of order sign plastered across the elevator lift, and shabby hotel-quality carpet.   
“Come on, you prefer the stairs anyway. We’re on the fourth floor.”   
Connor’s heavy work boots started heaving their way up the stairs as he held onto the polished banister.   
When the two of you finally made your way to the fourth landing, you were met with a long hallway stretching out down either side of the building.   
“This way,” Connor pointed down the hallway to the left, “room 419.”  
As you reached the handsomely painted red door, Connor rapped his knuckles against the thick oak. Several slow seconds passed by before the door was drug open across the carpet.   
A beautiful woman with black hair that fell past her shoulders in flawless curls greeted you and Connor with a warm smile and glowing auburn eyes.   
“Estee! You look amazing, babe.”   
Connor walked eagerly through the doorway and greeted the mystery woman with a light peck on the cheek, his fingertips still clingy to yours as he pulled you in after him.   
The two of you stroll into a room filled with fine furnishings; low instrumental music cooing from the corner, and enough candles and incents to choke the very life from you.  
“I see you brought a guest. “ The woman, Estee, had a voice that sounded exotic and thick, as she forced English words through a Hispanic accent.   
“Aye, this is Rylee; my girl I told you about.”   
Connor placed a light hand around your waist before kissing your hair that covered your right cheek. You had no idea where you were, who this woman was, or what exactly Connor had planned, but the fact alone that he had introduced you as ‘his girl’ already had you feeling more at ease.   
“It’s nice to meet you, Rylee. You have very beautiful skin. It’s pale and flawless, perfect.” Her tongue rolled the ‘r’ in the word ‘perfect’ a little too long, reminding you of a cartoon cat.   
“Thank you… I ‘ve never been tan a day in my life. I doubt you would know anything about that problem though.”   
Estee’s skin was a glorious tone of olive, and you were quite positive that she would be mistaken for a bronzed goddess sent from above on any summer’s day.   
“No, I have never worried about having a tan. However, I have always found myself envious of pale, porcelain complexions. I suppose we all long for that in which we don’t have.   
Connor’s thumb rubbed against the back of your hand at Estee’s words.  
“I think I’m going to go change into something more appropriate for our appointment. Excuse me.”   
You watched as Estee exited the room through a door on the far wall, clicking it closed behind her.  
“More appropriate for our appointment?” You turned to face Connor, throwing him an extremely accusatory look.  
Connor didn’t make eye contact, but instead left your side to go and look out the window at the dark street below.   
“She’s a hooker, isn’t she?”   
“Well, ah, she’s not, NOT a hooker…” Connor answered you without turning around from the glass. You stared at the back of his head in genuine amazement.  
“I’m leaving, Con. You want to pay money we don’t have on sex you quite frankly don’t need, fine. I’m not participating.”   
You move swiftly towards the suite door only to be cut off by Connor blocking your way.  
“I’m not paying. We’re not paying, okay? I met Estee through a guy at the plant. Before he got laid off he was sneaking her out meat; cold cuts, steaks, that kind of shit; in exchange for her, uh, services. Well the guy got laid off, so she came to me, asked if I was interested in the same deal.” Connor spoke fast, spilling his story and tripping over several words in the process.  
You eyed him with cautious uncertainty. How long had Connor been coming here for Estee’s ‘services?’ Had Murph been here too?  
“How many times have you been here? How long has this been going on?”  
“Baby, nothing is going on. She’s got two kids at home. She has mouths to feed. I could never exploit her for trying to provide for her family, even if it was what she does for a living.”   
“Has Murphy ever been here? With her?” You needed to know the answer to that question before you could be talked into anything. Enjoying three’s company action with Connor was one thing, but you were not going to sit in the same room as a woman who had been with Murphy; your Murphy. The thought alone of him nuzzling her caramel skin, of him caressing her stomach, of her moaning his name, coating it in a Hispanic accent; was enough to drive you nearly insane.   
“Ha!” Connor let out a loud, short laugh; catching you off guard and making you take a startled step back from him. “Rylee, I don’t think Murphy has so much as seen another woman walk past him on the street since he met you. He’s got Rylee Wood blinders on, baby. All he sees is you.”   
There was no hiding the satisfied look upon your face as you bit your bottom lip and looked at the shabby carpeting on the floor.   
“So, what made you change your mind then? About the ‘exploiting’ I mean.”  
You heard a rustle coming from the other room and the sound of wardrobe doors being pulled shut.  
“I thought it would be nice…” Connor pulled you into him, pushing your hair back from your eyes and running a rough fingertip down the length of your chin. “…Something nice to share with you.”  
“Don’t bullshit me, Connor. You only decided to take me with you two minutes before you left.” You glared up at him, turning to give him your cheek instead of your lips as he moved in for a kiss.   
“Ry, I planned on taking you along from the very moment I made these plans. You’re WHY I made these plans. I just wanted to get you all hot, pissed off, and bothered, before bringing you over here.”   
Connor’s tongue massaged your ear lob just before he began slowly gnawing at it with his teeth.   
“You wanted me to come the whole time?” you asked, leaning your head back to look Connor in the eyes.  
“When have I ever not been all about you coming?” A juvenile smile appeared on his face, and you can’t hold yourself back from rolling your eyes.   
“Seriously though, you know what Rylee is my favorite Rylee to fuck?” Connor’s words were husked against your neck, sending a pulse directly to your core. “A jealous Rylee.”  
At his last utter of your name, Connor spun you around, just in time to watch as Estee strutted herself seductively from the other room. She was wearing black stiletto heals, a black lace garter and stockings, coupled with a black push up bra. Her flowing dark hair ran like a black river down her chest and back. Her body was tight and toned, but still shown stretch marks and a C-section scar on her lean torso, exposing that she was both sexy and a real human.   
“Shall we begin?” Estee stopped just in front of you and Connor, holding out a hand to each of you.  
You give Connor a glace from the corner of your eye and watch as he gives you the slightest nod.   
“Yeah. Let’s do this.” Your words sound far more confident than you actually are. Estee was stunningly beautiful and exotic, and you were sure, plenty experienced. Although you were not turned off by the idea, you had never been with a woman, on your own or with a man.   
Your nerves getting the best of you, your hands begin to shake like mad and you link your fingers together to hide your insecurities as you follow Connor and Estee into the other room where a king size bed had been set against the far wall, in between two windows that were both pouring in moonlight.   
Connor begins shedding clothing in an excitement that already has you swallowing your ego. You watch as his eyes skip up and down Estee’s deliciously brown curves as a fiery pit of jealousy simmers slowly in your stomach.   
“You’re going to want to lose these.” Estee sauntered over to you and begins slowly tugging on your tight jeans and tank top as you bend down to shed your boots. You could smell a hint of vanilla radiating off of her skin.   
This woman had you naked fast enough that she could compete with Murph after he had had four shots and you accidentally showed him too much cleavage.   
You were feeling rather exposed until you look over and see a naked Connor already placing himself on top of the bedspread, stroking himself slowly as he watches your and Estee’s every move from across the room.   
“Have you ever done anything like this before?” Estee’s voice was low and her moving lips were shielded from Connor by a thick curtain of hair.  
“What? Have sex? Yes, I’ve been fairly well acquainted with the subject since I was fifteen.” How naive did this woman think you actually were?   
“No, sex with a woman; with a woman and a man. Have you ever been with two people at once?”   
A beautifully erotic montage flashed before your eyes of Connor and Murphy both having your way with you, over and over; both of them penetrating not only your body, but your very being.  
“Yes, I’ve been with two people at once, but they were both men.” You eye Connor from across the room, his hazel irises plastered on your nude form. “I’ve never been with a woman.”  
“Good. This will be fun for you, and especially fun for him. You’re good to him, for letting this happen. I can tell he really loves you. You should hear the way he speaks of you when you’re not around.”   
The slightest tinge of guilt was swimming around your head as you looked over at Connor. There was no question in the world about weather or not you loved Connor MacManus; the answer was yes, without the slightest hint of doubt. You just knew that you couldn’t breathe without Murph, and you prayed to god, or whoever may be listening, that you never had to try.   
“I’m going to kiss you now, he’ll really like that. Do whatever you feel is natural. Go with your instincts. I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. Whatever you want to go for, I’ll follow your lead, okay?”   
Estee’s eyes were bright and lively as she spoke; her tongue licked over her lips between her last few words.   
You didn’t answer her, you knew all too well what it was that Connor wanted, and you fully intended on giving it to him. You owed Connor everything. Every bit of happiness you had ever experienced in your adult life could be traced back to him. He could have lost his mind when he found out about you and Murph, he could have made you leave, or given you the cold shoulder and shut him out of his life; but he didn’t. Connor chose to love you for who you are and for what you could offer to him.   
Connor was far from an idiot, and you and he both knew that Murphy had your heart; he had your soul, and that one day, someday, Murphy would be the one to father your children. Murphy would be the one who married you, who clutched your withered hand as you slowly passed from this world and onto the next. Murphy was the one for you, but instead of jealousy, Connor had decided to be grateful for the family and love that he had, and not be bitter about anything that he didn’t.   
Your hands slide up the smooth figure of Estee’s frame, caressing her velvet skin, the aroma of her hair tickling your nose. You move in and as your lips brush against hers, you feel the tip of her tongue nip lightly at your mouth. You hear a delicious groan being emitted from Connor who you could hear had started assaulting himself with more vigor. The tip of your nose made contact with hers and you finally placed your mouth over her lips, rolling your tongue between her teeth, tasting her sugary sweet saliva.  
Her hands find your breasts and cup them before beginning a dangerously erotic massage of your nipples. You feel tingles run through your pelvis as your breasts are brought to their full erotic state.   
You slowly turn your head in unison with Estee, both of you looking over to Connor who is practically shaking with anticipation.  
“Should we give the poor boy some attention, Miss Rylee? He is being so good.” Estee’s words sounded as if she were talking to a newborn puppy, and you bite your tongue as you watch Connor squirm.   
“ Connor, baby, do you want something?” You also adopted the puppy voice as you addressed him. “What do you want me to do to pretty Estee?”   
Connor coughed a little out of pure excitement, seemingly unable to even form words.   
“Come here.”  
Obeying his command, both you and Estee strutted over to the edge of your bed, dropping onto all fours, and crawling the last few feet to reach Connor.   
“What do you need us to do, Connor?” Estee purred.   
“That throbbing dick looks horribly uncomfortable, baby. Do you need us to fix that for you?” Your current voice was cooing and so unlike your natural one, and it was obviously exciting Connor beyond all comprehension, because all he managed to do was nod.   
“Estee, will you do the honors?” You sit back on the palms of your hands as Estee crawls erotically slowly between Connor’s open legs.  
Her mouth engulfs him in a single swallow and you watch as Connor’s eyes roll back into his head; his jaw becomes slack and he pants desperately towards the ceiling. You watch as her head bobs up and down, up and down into Connor’s lap, a pace and rhythm that is proof of her professionalism.   
Connor chokes and sputters inaudible words, but manages to call out your name, lifting his hand up and motioning for you to come to him. You stand and sit next to him on the pressed bedspread, grabbing his hand and thrusting it onto your chest. You attack Connor’s mouth; sucking his tongue the same was that Estee was sucking his cock. You could feel Connor’s panted breath against your mouth and you knew that he was getting close.   
Connor’s abs twitched uncomfortably in his stomach and his legs were tightening up. Estee seemed to take this as a signal to suck harder as she gagged herself repeatedly on the head of Connor’s aching member.   
“Oh, fuck, Ry…” Connor’s husked voice echoed in your ear as he licked your neck, thumbing your nipples with the same vigor that Estee was showing him.   
“It’s okay, baby. Show her what you’re made of. Shoot down that bitch’s throat, but don’t you dare even think about going limp on me. You know that you have a fucking job to do, and you’re going to need a hard cock to do it.”   
“I’m going to fuck you until your knees buckle and your lungs give out.” Connor’s voice was strained and you knew that he was seconds away.   
“Don’t write checks your ass can’t cash, Connor. I don’t want promises; I want that dick inside me. Now fucking come into that sweet fucking mouth of her so I can have what I want.”   
With your final, filthy words, Connor unleashed inside of Estee’s mouth, coating her throat in his hot seed. You watched as his climax rolled down his body in a sensual wave and witnessed Estee devour every drop that she could possibly milk from him.   
Without swallowing, Estee climbed up to you on the bed, grabbing you by the back of the neck and started pushing her tongue, coated in the thick, salty nectar that was Connor, into your mouth. Connor stared in utter amazement as he watched the two of you kiss; exchanging saliva and come between the two of you.   
“How does our boy taste, Rylee?” Estee wiped her delicate mouth with the back of her hand.  
“Like spice and sin, Estee.”   
The two of you turned your heads to face Connor.  
“Should we put on a little show for him? Something every man is dying to see?”   
You watch as arousal and disbelief washed back and fourth over Connor’s glazed over hazel eyes.   
“Hmm, something to get that dick of his nice and firm again? I think so…”  
You slowly moved your hand down into Estee’s push up bra, revealing her dark nipples and more than adequate breast.   
“Why don’t you lay back, baby? You worked so hard, I think it should be your turn now.”   
Connor’s thighs twitched already at the sound of your command, and he begins squeezing his shaft in slow motion, trying to quickly revive a temporary loss in girth.   
Estee climbed backwards on her hands to the head of the bed, spreading her legs wide, her heels digging into the bed. She chews on her thumb as she watched you slowly climb down to where her core lies.   
You look at Connor for a split second before diving in, literally face first, into Estee’s hot center. Slowly, you allow your tongue to nip at and tickle her most sensitive folds. You watch from the corner of your eye as bumps rise on the tops of her thighs, letting you know that you’re sending chills through her spine.   
You let your tongue penetrate her, licking in a circular motion as deep as your tongue can reach. You remove your tongue and replace it in a ferocious repetition. You trail your tongue from the top of her sex, lingering around the bud of gathered nerves, all the way to the bottom before dipping slyly past the puckered skin that lay below.   
Estee’s thighs were clamped around your ears now, muffling her impressive moans. You continued to twist your tongue, contouring it to explore every new possible place within Estee’s pleasure center. You lapped at your gushing fluid, sucking her dry with every new wave that her body provided you with.   
Though it sounded slightly as if you were underwater, you could hear your name being called. You watched as Estee’s stomach twisted, rising and falling, trying tirelessly to collect enough oxygen for her desperate lungs.   
Suddenly you felt strong, familiar hands grip your hips tightly in a vice. You felt the all too wonderful tip of a rock solid head teasing your entrance. You felt Connor teasing you, giving you just enough, pushing the top of his cock past your sensitive entry way, only to remove it just as quickly.   
You jutted your hips backwards towards Connor’s cock shamelessly, making him all too aware of what it was you wanted.   
The desire was all that Connor needed reassuring of. He dove into you, snapping his hips violently into your body. You felt his entire cock intrude into your aching walls. You screamed into Estee’s soaked core, glorious relief washing over you as your throbbing sex finally was given some attention.   
After just a single penetration, you felt your own flood of sexual arousal run down your legs, soaking Connor in the process.   
“Fuck, baby. You want me that bad?”   
You begin sucking desperately at Estee’s clit, making her scream out and clench her fists into the now horribly crumpled bedspread.   
Connor begins lifting your hips and shoving them back down, driving you wild as he literally hits every possible erotic point within your trembling walls while riding you. You rut your ass against Connor; always trying to get him in even deeper with every new thrust he gifted you.   
“That’s right baby, beg for my cock, and suck that clit. Make her come on that beautiful little tongue of yours. You’re such a good little slut.”   
Tears welled up in your eyes as the near painful pleasure bubbled into your stomach. You wanted to give in so badly, you wanted to soak Connor in your climax more than you wanted your next breath of air, but you needed more.  
Your mouth and Estee’s sex parting ways for just mere seconds, you lift your head up long enough to tell Connor to fucking hit you, to fuck you like the man you know he is.   
You wince in pleasurable pain as the back of Connor’s hand makes contact with your bare ass. You cry out against Estee pulsating core as Connor bucks himself into you faster.  
“Fuck! Suck harder! I’m so close! Connor, you call that thrusting? How about you stop fucking around and make your woman come.” Estee’s voice rang out over all the panted breath and gratifying moans that were quickly filling up the room.   
Obeying her order you tongue and suck the nerve-filled bud at the top of Estee’s center, letting her soak against your mouth. You quickly push three fingers deep inside of her and apply pressure upwards; shoving her over the edge of her thunderous orgasm. You feel her walls ache against your fingers as you continue to fuck her to the last delicious second of her climax.   
Feeling Estee’s orgasm flow from her body against your mouth, listening to a fellow female cry out your name in orgasmic pleasure was too much to handle.   
“Connor, harder, dammit!”   
Gripping your hips tighter than was comfortable, Connor slammed you into his cock, doing all the work for you. You bit your lip, but containing your moans was short lived as and crippling orgasm washed over you faster than you had anticipated. Your entire body shook and you clenched your walls as tightly as you could around Connor, forcing him to come with you, to follow you over the climactic cliff.   
You feel Connor spill into you as a whining pant comes from behind you. The three of you tumble down onto the sheets, completely spent. All of you clinging to every breath your lungs can grab hold of.   
After several moments, Estee was the first one to speak.   
“The two of you can stay here if you like. You can go home in the morning. It’s late, and I imagine neither of you are too keen on moving very far.”   
Connor and you both let you a small, satisfied chuckle.   
You roll over and look into his eyes, and he already knows your answer before you open your mouth to speak.  
“Thank you, Estee, for everything, but I have to get this one home. She’s going to have someone who’s wondering where she is in a few hours.”


	18. Subway

Chapter Eighteen:

 

A storm had been rolling through Boston for the past week; flooding the streets, chasing pedestrians indoors and the homeless under every high way over pass for miles. You were beginning to wonder if you would ever see the sun again when Sunday rolled around.   
You opened your eyes to gaze up at sheets of rain hitting the windowed ceiling; the smell of coffee wafting into your nose. You rolled onto your side to see Murph already fully dressed; pouring coffee into cracked ceramic mugs, sucking on a cigarette from the corner of his mouth.   
“You’re so god damn pretty, I just want to tie you up and do things to you.” The words escaped your mouth before you had time to process them, and Murphy laughed at your early morning bluntness.  
“I don’t know if you’ve looked in a mirror lately, babe, but you’re fairly appeasing to the eyes as well.” Murphy sat down on the end of the mattress, handing you a blue mug with no handle, and the half killed smoke from his mouth, before lighting himself a new one.   
These mornings were the ones you lived for; the ones where you would wake to Murphy’s pierced blue gaze, where the two of you would drink coffee and laugh, and forget that there was absolutely anything in the world besides each other.   
“I think we ought to call a cab this morning, no point in trying to walk out in this shit.” Murphy flung his hand upwards to the transparent ceiling above as he spoke.  
“And where are we going?”   
“Church, Ry. We’re going to church.”  
“You mean, you’re going to church. I’ll be here, going back to sleep.” Your words rolled off your tongue faster than you could roll eyes. You had no intention of going to a Catholic service with Murphy, that was what Connor was for.  
“I’d like it if you came.” Murphy stared at you from the bottom of the mattress, not breaking eye contact; as if he looked away he would lose some competition.   
“Well you’re going to have to do more than ask nicely, baby.” You eye Murphy with a look of seduction and mockery.   
“You’re a dirty fucker, you know that?” Murphy laughed, but there was a hint of pride between his words. You knew he was proud to have found someone just as filthy as he was.  
“I am, and I am not fit for God’s presence. I’ll taint the room, church, gathering, thing…” It never took much for Murphy to figure out how illiterate you were concerning religion.   
“If the lord takes me, there is no way that he won’t take you, love.”   
You couldn’t help but smile at the look of genuine belief in Murphy’s face. You knew that God was something that he held so dear, and quite frankly you were a little envious of his faith. You were never able to be sure of anything with much conviction. You wanted to share everything with Murphy; especially something that you knew was so important to him, but you couldn’t fake something like that. You couldn’t lie to Murphy about something you didn’t know.   
“How about I stay here, sleep, and I promise to be naked and waiting to dirty you back up as soon as you get home?” You smiled coyly at Murphy but was slightly surprised when your promises of nudity didn’t have the desired effect.   
“Why are you so threatened by religion?” Murphy’s voice wasn’t judgmental, but instead showed a tone of honest curiosity.   
“I don’t think ‘threatened’ is the right word, babe. I just don’t understand how you can have so much faith in something that you’ve never seen, in something that you have no proof of.”   
Murphy took your hand in his, lightly touching his fingertips to each one of yours.   
“I can’t see weather you love me or not, not really. There isn’t any physical proof. Doesn’t stop me from believing it though. I just…know.” Murphy looked down at where your hands met as he spoke, his voice delicate and soft, so unlike his normal tone.  
“I love you, and I envy your ability to believe. I would never want to take away your faith, Murphy, I’m just not as sure.”   
Murphy leaned forward on his free hand, his other still intertwined with yours, his lips pressing against yours roughly, the stale smell of cigarette smoke wafting from his hair.  
“Will you at least ride down with me? We’ll go get some food afterwards? There is a bar across the street you can wait in if you like.”   
“Sure, I can do that. I’m going to wait in a bar while you’re professing your love to God? I really am your one way ticket to hell, aren’t I?” You bit your lip through your joke.  
“You’re worth it.”

The rain had soaked both of you to the bone the moment you had exited the building. You could smell the scent of damp cotton and the shampoo of your recently washed hair as you ran through the street, dashing through puddles deep enough that they quickly engulfed your boots and flooded your feet inside.   
Murphy took you by the hand and led you down slick stairs and into a subway station that was practically deserted. You ran numb fingers through your dripping hair, pushing it out of your eyes.   
“The subway?” The groan in your voice was unmistakable and Murphy knew what you were going to say before you had even opened your mouth.  
“I know, alright? We’re underground, in a big tin can, in the dark; it’s like your claustrophobia trifecta. I’m aware of your feelings on the subject, love, why do you think I haven’t ridden this thing since we met? However, would you rather spend the next twenty-two blocks slowly drowning, or would you rather tough it out for six minutes in the dark?”  
Water was slowly dripping off of Murphy’s chin as he spoke, his blue eyes somehow managing to shine even brighter through the dim station.   
“You want an honest answer to that question?” You asked, knowing your answer was that you would rather not have left your warm blankets at all. Wading through flooded streets or cruising underground in the dark to go visit God did not seem desirable in the least.   
“No, not really.” Murphy cracked an angelic smile that sent your stomach into a twist just as a screeching sound could be heard from somewhere near by in the tunnel.   
A heavily graffiti covered subway train came to an abrupt halt in front of you, the harsh sound of metal on metal reaching your ears as the doors opened for exiting and entering passengers. Murphy held out his hand for you to follow him onto the train; your fingers grasping his as you reluctantly follow him.  
The train was empty, as was most of the city currently. The flood waters and biblical down pour had normal, non-MacManus’ staying indoors and telling God that they’d catch him next Sunday. Such things didn’t seem to really bother Murph. He would never consider weather as a reason to not go somewhere.   
Murphy placed a heavy arm across your shoulders as you nuzzled into his neck as the train departed into the tunnel. The lighting was as shaky as the train was, as flickered pictures of Calvin Klein models and Soda ads flashed in front of your eyes while the train car came in and out of your vision.   
You touched the end of your cold nose to the warmth of Murphy’s neck, fishing for his pulse. You feel him kiss the top of your damp head, whispering something to you in French.   
Just as you were about to retort about Murph being a smart ass for purposely talking to you in languages you didn’t understand, the train began to slow and the lights went out.   
“What is going on? Are we there?” You tried to shield the fact that you were terrified to be in the dark, in a big metal box, but your efforts were far beyond futile.   
“No…I think we lost power. We stopped on the track somewhere. Guess the water was worse off than I thought, aye?”   
You watch as Murphy ignites his lighter in front of his face, letting it linger in front of a cigarette placed between his lips, before putting it out; the cherry of his smoke still smoldering in the dark.   
“Oh god. I’m going to drown in a fucking subway. This piece of shit train is going to flood and I’m going to die here, with some Irish guy who wouldn’t let me skip fucking church.” Your voice had cracked more times than you were willing to admit while uttering that sentence as you placed your face into your palms.   
“Some Irish guy who wouldn’t let you skip church? Some Irish guy? Baby, claustrophobia really does do a number on you, don’t it?” Murphy was laughing through the darkness at your hysteria, but you weren’t in the mood.   
“Why, Murph? Why the fucking subway? Honestly?”   
“I was trying to get you out of the rain, alright? Just fucking breathe, baby. They’ll get it sorted out soon enough. You’re sure as shit not going to drown. It’s just a power outage.”   
You could smell Murphy’s cigarette smoke curling around you in the air, calming you with the scent that you always connected with the pale, dark-haired man.   
“Give me that.” You held your arm out towards the floating ball of fire beside you, beckoning Murphy to give you his smoke.  
“Nah, it’s my only one. I’m out. This one was behind my ear,” Murphy whined, his voice sounding as if he were no older than ten.  
“Are you kidding? I’m going to have a fucking panic attack and your complaining that it’s your last cigarette? Really? Fucking hand it-“   
Just as your fear was starting to get the best of you, you felt Murphy’s mouth being placed over yours. His tongue pried open your lips, and a hot, delicious wave of smoke floated into your mouth; washing down your through and climbing through your nostrils.   
You pushed your tongue against Murph’s; the two of you quietly groaning against each other’s mouths. His hands played delicately through your loose locks of saturated hair, and your fingers rubbed roughly against his permanent 5 o’clock shadow.   
Murphy, grabbing you strongly by the hips, heaved you up and forward, setting you down on his lap, allowing each your legs to fall on either side of him. A pulsation of lust ran up and down your spine as your heat was instantly placed directly on top of an already impressively sized erection.   
“You turned on by immobile public transportation?” You teasingly asked as you tongued Murphy’s inner ear.   
A throaty chuckled could be heard through the dark before he answered, his hands running up and down your bare back beneath you shirt.   
“Nah, love, I get turned on by you being anything less than the overly aggressive pistol that you always are. It fucking does things to mean when I see you show any weakness, I get hard wanting to be your man. I get turned on taking care of you.”   
You pushed yourself forward on your knees, creating delicious friction between your sex and his, igniting his fire even further as you watch the outline of Murph’s head being thrown backward in lust.   
“What if I want to take care of you? What if, for once, I wanted to make you do whatever the fuck I wanted?” Your voice had suddenly taken a wicked tone and Murphy’s entire body went ridged beneath you in harsh anticipation.   
“You’re going to fuck me in this subway aren’t you?” Murphy’s question was dripping with hopefulness that his throbbing erection could never hide.   
“Take off your fucking pants.”  
Murphy practically threw you to the side as he jumped up and began pulling and tugging at buttons and zippers, removing his clothing and dropping it to the floor below. You heard the heavy clank of his belt buckle hitting the metal floor and bent down, feeling blindly with your hands until you found it.   
Murphy came to you, grabbing your face and attempting to kiss you passionately, only to have you turn your cheek and grab both of his wrists in your palms.  
“We’re going to play a game, baby, a game that is going to make me forget that you drug me down to my demise in one of Boston’s finest underground, rat infested, subway death traps.”   
Lifting his hands upwards, you quickly grasp onto the passenger bar above your heads, meant for standing citizens to steady themselves with. You quickly attach Murphy’s belt to each of his wrists, wrapping it several times in the thick leather, before stringing it up against the bar.   
Your hands instantly begin to explore Murphy’s naked skin, and you were overly pleased to feel that he had removed all of his clothing already for you. You pushed yourself against his body, swaying him against the bar in which he was restrained, gnawing at his collarbone and listening as his breath quickened in pace.   
You relished in the small signs Murphy’s body was giving away: the salty taste of his sweat on his skin, the harsh intakes of breath, the bumps of excitement that were scattered across his pale skin that was barely visible in the blackness. You touched him softly, building him up, making him want you, making him whisper your name thickly into the dark.   
Your hands found the tip of Murphy’s overly sensitive head in the quiet, causing him to flinch hard in the dark. You eagerly thumb the slit as a drop of nectar rises at your touch.   
“Ry…” Murphy’s voice is little more than a whisper as you drop to your knees, planting hot, wet kisses down his torso as you descend.   
Murphy gasps and juts his hips forward into your mouth as you begin to take him in, revealing his anxious anticipation. You’re more than aware of Murphy’s insanity at not being able to touch you, you know all too well how much Murphy is going to want to take you before the end of this.   
You drag your teeth slowly over his sensitive skin, tonguing him thickly, allowing him to gag you. You knead his sack, causing him to clench every muscle in his lean legs, giving you great gratification at the lustful power you hold over him.   
You suck and devour ever ounce of warm fluid that manages to escape from him, grateful for the arousal you’re building up inside of his gut.   
You love the moment that you know he’s close; the moment when he becomes harder than you or he ever dreamed possible, the moment when you can practically feel every muscle in his body ache for you, the moment when he moans filthy obscenities in every language but English, and the moment that his stomach dips in, when he stops breathing, and when he goes dangerously quiet; you love that he gives away right when you should stop.   
You release him for the vice grip of your jaw, only to hear him whimper in the dark. You know that you left him at the peak, only to allow him to slowly roll back down his metaphorical, erotic hill.   
“Baby, please…”  
“You’re going to have to beg more convincingly than that, baby boy.”   
Climbing to your feet, you stand on the tips of your toes to reach Murphy’s mouth, biting his lips and licking his jaw, whispering filthy sweet nothings into his ears between his heavy pants.   
Removing a hair tie from wrist; a habit of which you had started long ago in your teens; you grab once more into the heat between Murphy’s legs. It doesn’t take you long to fasten the elastic around Murphy in such a fashion that you know you’ve cut off his ability to unload. Until you see fit to allow it, Murphy couldn’t come no matter how hard he tried.   
“Are you kidding?” Murphy, slightly shocked at your action, swung helplessly from his leather restraints as you slowly began to shed your own pants.   
“You’re all mine, baby. I own you. You won’t do anything unless I allow it. I’m going to get mine, over and over again. I’m going to use you to get myself off as many times as I want, and you’ll hang there, desperate and hard, until I decide to cut you lose.”   
Tossing your jeans aside, you grip Murphy tightly between your palms, stroking him to his full girth and potential. You playfully tongue his head, letting him rut towards your mouth in desperation.   
Gripping onto a stationary pole that ran from the train’s ceiling to the floor, you slowly bend yourself over, pushing your ass back into Murphy’s aching crotch. You line yourself up, using a hand between your thighs to help guide his head to your entrance. You begin to push yourself back, torturously slow.   
You bounce your hips back and fourth, fucking just the very tip of Murphy. As much as the anticipation bubbling inside of your gut is killing you, you know that it is slowly driving him insane.   
While you tease him, Murphy violently swings his body forward, forcing himself entirely inside of you. You let out a cry of unexpected pleasure as you feel him hit a deep pleasure point inside of your core. Hungry for that surprise again, you shove yourself back in a rapid motion, repeating Murphy’s action over and over.   
As he was hanging, unable to move, you listen as Murphy’s breathing becomes increasingly labored.  
“Jesus fucking Christ, Rylee. Harder. Fuck. Harder, baby.” Murphy’s words are husked into his shoulder as he pants deeply, never seeming to be able to catch enough oxygen in his throat.   
You feel yourself flood between your thighs as you force yourself backward with an animalistic vigor. You’re waiting for it, waiting for when Murphy’s body attempt to come but will deny him his release.   
You bounce yourself against him, feeling your own upcoming climax building tight knots in your gut, forming a thin layer of sweat all over your skin.   
You clench your walls around Murph, clinging to him as tight as your body will allow, driving him wild as your screams echo into the empty metal train car.   
“Fuck, baby. Murph I’m coming, god.”   
You feel a delicious wave of pleasure wash its way down your spine, warming your very core as your sex aches and pulsates. As you rock against him in your own climax, milking his erection for every pleasure it’s worth, you hear Murphy’s frustrations being whispered through the darkness.   
“Dammit! Rylee, take this shit off, please. Fuck, I can’t take it. I feel like I want to fucking come so bad I might implode.”   
Murphy’s pleas do nothing but fuel your fire.  
“Baby, I told you. Only when I say, okay? Be a good boy?”  
Letting two stray fingers explore yourself, you bring up evidence of your own climax on your digits, placing them inside Murphy’s mouth, letting him suck at them in uncontrollable desperation.   
“You like that baby?”  
“Fuck, untie me. I’ll fucking devour every drop you have to offer, love.”   
“That’s not how this game works, Murph. Now, you want to try and come again? Maybe the third times the charm.” Your tone was wicked and not at all lost on Murphy’s ears.   
He lets out a groan of pleasure and misery as you push him into your mouth again, throating him and gagging yourself shamelessly. You grab his hips, rocking him into your mouth, helping him sway back and fourth as you lap at his aching cock, pushing him to a near breaking point as he begs for his release in every language he knows.   
Allowing your right hand to stray behind him, you quickly push past the puckered skin and begin teasing the prostate deep within him, causing him to rock his hips against you ferociously.   
“Shit, take it off, please! I need this, I need to come, baby.”   
“I’m not finished with you yet…”   
Before you could get out another word, the buckle on Murphy’s belt finally gave way under all of his flailing and rocking. Released from the hanging bar above, but hands still tied, Murphy quickly drops down to his knees, yanking the elastic from himself, and throwing the belt holding his hands together over your throat.   
Murphy pins you down face first to the cold metal ground of the train, choking you as he inserts himself deep within you in a single thrust.   
“Jesus, Murphy!” You scream his name as he fucks you with a fury only a man driven near sexually wild would be capable of.   
You cough and sputter as the pleasure mixes with your slow lack of oxygen against. Red dots speckle across your vision as you squeeze your eyes shut and gasp for breath, your climax dancing around you, forewarning you of the magnitude in which you are about to come.   
“Think you’re…so fucking…clever.” Murphy’s words are no more than vicious grunts as he penetrates you in a sick desperation; pounding you painfully into the hard floor, leaving cuts and bruises all over your thighs from random debris left on the filthy subway.  
“That’s right,” you choke, “take it out on me, baby. Take it all out on me. Teach me a fucking lesson.”   
“Shit!”   
Murphy’s body shakes and convulses violently against yours as you feel a hot flood shoot inside of you.   
You scream Murphy’s name into the blind darkness of the stopped train as your second orgasm moves through you swiftly.   
The two of you lie there in shock, both of you shaking and numb against the floor. Neither of you speak, but just pant into the silence, both trying to comprehend the vicious pleasure that had just escaped from within you.   
While you lay there, pants around your ankles, your eyes clenched shut, unaware of when you will ever be able to walk again; the lights suddenly flicker on, and the train begins to pull forward.


	19. Kelly

Chapter Nineteen: 

The heavy door of McGinty’s slammed behind you, instantly muffling the rowdy sound of Rocco bellowing obscenities inside. Tonight had been slow, and Rocco and Doc had been taking shots and playing poker for the last two hours before you finally bid them goodnight.   
The night was chilled and you clung to your sides tightly as you began to walk briskly around the corner; only to hear your name being called from behind you.  
You turned around to see Connor attempting to jog after you, his lean chest heaving in the cold air, a half killed cigarette still clutched between his fingers.   
“What are you doing here?” You ask in a surprised tone of happiness.   
“See…You…” Connor choked, still catching his breath.  
“Wow, what was that? A whole block? Smoke another one, Con.” You laugh as you take the lit cherry from his hand to suck it deeply.   
“Yeah? I don’t see you fuckin’ runnin’ anywhere, do I?” Connor smiled as he held his side, his breath finally making a comeback.   
You instantly feel a smile come across your face to match the one that Connor wore.  
“No, no you don’t.”   
Your head made contact with the brick harder than either of you intended when Connor pushed you roughly against it. His entire body pressed against yours, Connor kissed you hard enough to make your knees give out.   
You tossed the cigarette down into the gutter as your fingers flew up to tug at his dishwater locks; your teeth biting softly at Connor’s slightly chapped lips. You were instantly dizzy with lust as Connor’s tongue rolled over yours, his hands grabbing madly at your hips and ass.   
A part of you would always love Connor for his miraculous ability to win you over in a matter of seconds. No matter the situation, no matter how far away your mind may have been, Connor could bring you back with something as small as kiss. He always knew how to make you his, even if it only lasted the length of time in which your tongues were connected.   
“Let’s go home.” Connor’s voice vibrated your eardrum as he whispered, sending a chill through you that had nothing to do with the Boston air.   
“Mmm, please.”   
Connor linked his fingers lightly through yours, kissing the top of your head as the two of you begin to walk in unison around the corner. 

The two of you were nothing but pawing hands, pulling at each other’s cloths and groping any curve you could find on one another as the elevator slowly climbed upwards to the loft.   
It was beyond late, so much so that it was probably closer to being very early morning than it was to night. A pink tinge had begun to rise in the east and the streetlights had shut off just as the two of you had entered the building.   
The metal grate to the elevator slid open just in time for you to shove Connor out of it, pinning him against the wall as your hands tugged hungrily at his belt buckle. He groaned against your mouth, vibrating both his tongue and yours as he did so.   
You could feel a vicious erection strained against his jeans as you rubbed your palm against Connor’s crotch.   
Connor leaned down to nuzzle your neck, letting the tip of his nose trace the curve down to your shoulder, where suddenly you felt his teeth sink into you. You hissed in pain as a pulse ran through your spine, however you were already too far gone to lust, and the bite did nothing but further fuel your fire of longing to have Connor buried deep within you.   
“Fuck, Connor, come on.” You grabbed him by his callused hand, and lead him down the dark hallway, letting him go just long enough to pull open the apartment’s heavy sliding door.   
Connor was walking in behind you, gnawing at your ear and groping shamelessly at your chest, when you came to an instant halt.   
It took Connor a moment to see what you saw, as he continued to kiss your cheek until he noticed that your entire body had gone ridged.   
“What? What’s wrong…?” Connor’s voice trailed off and that was when he saw her too.  
Although you didn’t look at him, you knew Connor had slowly turned his head to look at the two mattresses on the concrete floor of the loft, the ones that the three of them had pushed together so many months before. You knew he had seen what you saw, which truthfully, only made this moment all the worse for you. Connor witnessing it meant that it was real, that you hadn’t somehow wandered into a nightmare.  
Murphy was asleep. His shirtless chest coated in a fine layer of sweat, just as it always was whenever he finally collapsed into unconsciousness. His dark hair was matted to his face, and stuck out at all odd angles. His boots had long since been discarded and thrown across the room. His breathing was steady, and you watched his chest go up and down, over and over, for you weren’t sure how long. You wondered for a moment if Connor was watching his chest too, or if Connor was staring at her, in awe.   
Wrapped in one of the old bedspreads, contoured to Murphy’s body, clinging to his chest with a stray arm, was a woman.   
Her hair was dark and wild around her sleeping face. One of her ankles had escaped from beneath the worn blankets and had linked itself around one of Murphy’s calves. She had nuzzled herself between his left arm and chest and was sleeping serenely, her breathing in unison with his.   
“Ry…” You heard Connor’s voice. You heard him whisper your name, but it sounded as if he were underwater, or on an entirely different plane of existence all together. You didn’t answer him; you didn’t know if you could even if you had tried. All you could do at this moment was stare.   
“Rylee, let’s go upstairs.” You felt Connor tug your hand, you felt him try to lead you towards the black metal stairs that lead up to the roof, but you didn’t move, and your eyes didn’t leave Murphy.   
“Come on, go up on the roof. I’ll deal with this, okay?” Connor’s voice was no more than a mere whisper, and you knew he was trying to remove you from the situation before you snapped out of your shock.  
His fingers linked through yours and you felt him pull you, much harder this time, towards the stairs. You quickly yanked your fingers from his grasp and planted yourself harshly where you stood.  
“No, Connor!” Your words were much louder than Connor’s whispers, and no sooner had they left your mouth, than did the thin body next to Murphy begin to stir.   
You slowly turned your head from Connor, back over to the bed in the middle of the floor, watching dangerously as the woman yawned widely before noticing you and Connor, standing before her.   
“Hey, who are you people?” Her voice was rather high-pitched and overly accusatory.   
“Who am I?”   
The shock of finding a woman in bed with Murphy was more heartbreak than you could possibly stomach, but to have her then wake only to question why you were in your own home was astronomical.   
“Who the fuck are you!?”  
“I’m Kelly, I came here with Murphy last night, and I really don’t appreciate your tone. Can you and your boyfriend, like, come back in a little while, because this is awkward.” She sat up as she spoke, revealing a nude colored bra beneath the shielding comforter.   
“My boyfriend? Bitch, you’re laying next to MY boyfriend.” The words exploded from within you in a fury you had never felt before. Your fists were clenched and you already were making your way towards her, full intention of attack embedded in your brain, when Connor grabbed you around the waist, twisting you around and stopping you from attempting to maul this woman like a jungle cat.   
“Aye, Kelly, get yer shit and get the fuck outta my apartment! Understand? Fucking, now!” Connor’s voice was booming, his yells echoing off of the loft’s concrete walls, and finally awaking Murphy with a start.   
“What the fuck…?” Murphy rubbed his eyes sleepily as he shot straight up, jumping to his feet, throwing his hands in the air as if preparing himself for a fight he had just been thrown into. “What the hell is going on?”  
“Aye, brother, what the hell IS going on?” Connor still clung to your waist, being far too wise to let you lose while Kelly was still within reach.  
“Murphy, this bitch just came in here and started losing her fucking mind.” Kelly was jumping up and down, pulling up her practically painted on jeans as she spoke.  
Murphy, who had not noticed Kelly gathering her things in the corner until she spoke, suddenly fell into a sickly grey color that paste would have been jealous of. He eyed her half naked body, before looking down at himself, and seeing that he was wearing boxers, but that everything else he had been clothed with the previous night had been strewn across the apartment.   
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Murphy’s voice was quiet and desperate. He was looking at the floor as he spoke, and you had a feeling that he would rather die an excruciating death than make eye contact with you.   
“What do you mean? You brought me here last night!” Kelly’s voice sounded horrified, as if she was the last woman on earth that Murphy should have forgotten.   
“No. There’s no way. I’d remember. I would remember…” Murphy sounded as if he was trying to convince himself more than he was any of the other people in the room.   
“Well, obviously you don’t. We were drinking at the Bar Named Sue last night, you were unbelievably drunk, shamelessly hitting on me, we were having a good time, so I followed you back to your place.”  
“I think I’m going to be sick,” you whispered to Connor, who was yet to let go of your hips, pinning you against him.   
“Go ahead, baby. I can’t blame you,” he husked into your ear from behind you.  
“Nah, I was drinking with Roc last night. He was there with me. I may have been three sheets, but Darlin’ I told you that I wasn’t interested, I remember that much.”  
“Well you got interested, okay? You were drunk, your friend called you a cab, and I rode along.” Kelly’s voice made a quick turn from accusatory to slick and sultry. “You had me worried, sweetheart. You barely knew your own name.” As she spoke Kelly began walking towards Murphy, her arms out and reaching for his hips.  
“You touch him, and I will kill you.” You heard the words come out of your mouth the same instant that your mind had thought them.   
You felt Connor tighten his grip around your waist, and for the first time since he had awoken, Murphy turned and looked you in the eye, fear written all over his tired face.  
“Baby, I didn’t…” Murphy’s voice was small, making you look down, unable to look him in the eye without feeling your heart shatter within your chest.   
“Oh, baby, we did.” Kelly let out a small choke of a laugh, before confronting you with her eyes, making you pull against Connor’s hold harshly.   
“You’re full of shit. I shot you down in the bar; Roc called me a cab home. I don’t remember you following me, but even if you did, I was far too gone to have fucked anyone last night, let alone you.”   
“You can play the innocent card in front of your little bitch all you want, baby, but I left my number for you on the table for the next time you get bored with this one.” Kelly nodded her head in your direction as she grabbed her purse up off of the floor.  
“Aye!” Murphy crossed the floor and grabbed Kelly by the shoulder, spinning her around before snatching the scrap of paper that held her number off of the card table. “Get the fuck outta ‘ere before I forget that my Ma taught me it was wrong to hit women, and take yer fuckin’ number with ya.”   
You were already away from Connor and half way up the stairs to the rooftop before Murphy had shoved Kelly from the loft.   
A chilled breeze whipped through your hair and froze the tears leaking from your eyes and running down your cheeks. You quickly cross to the edge of the roof, placing your hands down on the brick ledge, and watching as Kelly eventually made her way out of the building and out of sight around the corner.   
“Babe?” You hadn’t heard Murphy come up, and his voice startled you.   
You didn’t turn around, but continued to watch several early morning pedestrians make their way back and fourth around the block below.   
“Ry?”   
You couldn’t turn around and look at him; you knew that if you did you would collapse.   
“I didn’t. I know that I didn’t. Baby, believe me. I need you to believe me.”   
“I don’t believe you!” Anger had flared inside of you once again, as you spun around; unleashing the wrath that Connor had managed to save Kelly from downstairs. “You were in bed with her, Murph! How am I supposed to believe you?”  
Murphy rushed forward, grabbing you by your shoulders. You pushed against his chest, desperately trying to escape from the embrace that he was forcing upon you.   
“No. Rylee, stop it. Stop it, and look at me.” Murphy grabbed your chin and forced your face upward, locking his blue eyes with yours. “She’s in Bar Named Sue all the time, okay? The only reason I talked to her at all was ‘cause Roc was tryin’ to fuck her. I was being his wingman, but then she started comin’ on strong for me and I told her that I was no good for her. Crazy bitch must have hopped in my cab last night, followed me up and laid down with me.”  
“Am I supposed to feel better now?” You shook your head as you spoke; Murphy’s story was only making you feel worse.   
“I am sorry, babe. I am. I am sorry that I got drunk enough that I didn’t tell her to go home. I am so sorry, that you had to come home to that, that you had to walk in and see her in our bed. I can’t apologize enough for that, but I did not fuck her.”   
Murphy’s eyes were piercing and made you want to believe any word that came out of his mouth.   
“How could you possibly know that? If you really were that drunk, Murph? She says you did fuck her.” Your voice quivered with anger as your hands still pressed hard against Murphy’s bare, pale chest.   
“Baby, when have you ever seen me fucking put back on boxers after we fuck? I fall asleep naked.” Murphy’s voice cracked slightly as a smile spread across his face. You hated him for it, but you felt a small smile cross your face in return.   
Murphy’s rough fingers traced up the side of your cheek, rubbing away a cool trail of tears before pushing fly away hair from your eyes.   
“I know because I love you. I know, because I don’t ever want anyone else, ever. You are mine, and I am yours.”   
Still looking into Murphy’s gaze, you felt a choke rise in your throat as more tears began falling from your eyes. You bury your face into the hot skin of his neck and collarbone, nuzzling him and taking in his natural aroma.   
“You still love me?”   
You can’t help but laugh through your tears at Murphy’s ludicrous inquiry.   
“Safe bet, baby.”   
Pulling your face up from his neck, Murphy plants hot kisses across your jawline, slowly making his way to your mouth where his tongue quickly intrudes on yours. The early morning air chills your tear soaked cheeks and your tongues clash against one another in a furious passion ignited from jealousy and fear.   
Murphy’s hands find their way to your ass before lifting you upwards into his arms. Your lips never parting ways, your fingers dig deeply into his dark mess of hair, pulling at it until Murphy’s groans could be heard against your mouth.   
Dropping to his knees, you gently feel the rough rooftop make contact with your back as Murphy lays you down beneath him. Before you can stop yourself, you feel your own hips roll longingly upwards to Murphy, only to be met with a rough snap forward of his. The thin cotton material of his boxers leaves very little to the imagination as you glance down and see Murphy’s more than ready sex pressing against you.   
Your fingers travel slowly down the length of Murphy’s stomach, rubbing softly at his protruding hipbone, before dipping beneath the flimsy material wrapped around his waist. Your fingers grasp at Murphy harshly, stroking him from the beginning of his base to the tip of his throbbing head, earning you an ever gratifying moan from deep within Murphy’s gut.   
Murphy presses his forehead to yours as you both look down, both watching as you stroke Murphy’s erection furiously, running a thumb over the slit in the top after every other motion. You continue to slowly roll your hips towards him, letting him know what it is you want, giving him the teasing visual of what is about to happen.   
Kissing you firmly once more, Murphy makes lightening fast work of removing your jeans and panties, allowing the breeze to explore your body at all new depths. Murphy’s fingers rub at your heat softly, preparing you for the deep penetration that is only mere seconds away. You bite your bottom lip, savoring the short moments in which Murph’s tough fingers tease you.   
Two fingers penetrate you, pushing upward hard before diving deep within your core. You roll your hips and stomach, letting out a louder-than-intended moan and a whimper of Murphy’s name.   
Grabbing him by the wrist, you remove Murphy from within you, only to bring his hand up to your mouth, tasting yourself and driving him wild as you wrap your tongue back and forth over his digits. You relish in the look in his eye, knowing that he wants you is more intoxicating than any high you have ever experienced.   
Pushing your knees wider apart with his own, Murphy positions himself at your entrance before slowly pushing himself in, teasing you at first with just his throbbing head. You groan deeply, grabbing Murphy’s hair and clinging to his bare shoulder blades.   
“Come on, baby. I’ve been a good girl, give it all to me. I deserve it.”   
The egging on was all Murphy needed as he immediately stopped with the tease fucking and dove into you without any further hesitation. You called out his name loudly as you feel him buried to the hilt within your core. Your legs wrap around his waist, lifting your hips up higher, allowing Murphy to reach all new depths with each and every new thrust.   
A wild hand pushes your shirt and bra up near your neck as Murphy’s mouth begins devouring your right breast, his lips sucking and his teeth gently gnawing at your budding nipple.   
Your heavy pants fall in perfect unison with his as you rut against him, bringing yourself up to meet each snap of his hips.   
“You want me, baby?” Murphy’s heavily accented voice cooing into your ear was nearly more than you could take as you felt a vicious flood escape from between your legs.  
“Always,” was all you could manage to answer as Murphy bucked against you harder, fucking you into an oblivious mess of your former self.   
Murphy grabs a fist full of your hair, yanking your head hard to the left, exposing your neck widely, making it all the easier for him to suck and bite at the tender flesh. As his teeth bit at the soft curve in your neck, you knew fighting off your impending climax would be nothing short of a miracle.   
“Baby, don’t stop. I’m so…so close.” At this forewarning, Murphy became making the most of each and every new penetration, making damned sure to engulf himself fully within you each time he reentered.   
“You going to come for me, Darlin’? I want to hear you scream my name.”   
The tight knots wound up in your stomach were more than you could handle, you felt your hot release roll down your spine, igniting every nerve in your body.   
“Tell me you love me.” Your words were no more than pleasure filled cries, you were already coming, but you needed to hear him say it. You needed to hear him assure you that you were the only thing that he wanted.   
“I love you, Rylee. Love you so fucking much.” His voice was harsh and gargled against your damp neck as you felt his hot release quickly follow yours.   
The overwhelming feeling of Murphy spilling his seed within you as he panted your name was nothing short of euphoric. You pulled his sweat soaked face upwards, locking your lips together and forcing your tired tongues to dance against one another once more.   
Just as Murphy’s tired body was still lying between your open legs, while both of you desperately try to catch breath that had long escaped you, you hear Connor’s voice.   
“Guys? Sorry to, uh, interrupt, but, Rylee, your parents are downstairs.”


	20. Bag of Tricks.

Chapter Twenty:

 

“What?” Your voice was caught in your throat; somewhere between still trying to catch your breath, and genuine horror. “They’re here?”  
Murphy still lay sprawled across you, the weight of him on your chest not helping you in regaining your normal breathing pattern.   
Connor nodded ominously at you and Murph, both of you still covered in sweat; him still inside of you, gently pulsating from his climax that had occurred only seconds ago.   
“Shit. Get up.” You lightly push Murphy up and he immediately jumps to his feet, holding his hand out to you as he pulls you up to the standing position.   
You quickly yanked your pants up around your hips, zipping them before making your way towards Connor at the stairs.   
“Wait, before you go down there, what is the game plan here?” Connor’s voice was coated in concern and you saw the tension etched across his face.   
“Con, what did they say to you?” Your hand found his jaw as you moved your thumb lovingly across his five o’clock shadow.   
“They fuckin’ barged in downstairs, asked where the hell you were. I told them to get out of my place, they told me that they weren’t leavin’ without you…” Connor’s voice dropped off as he looked down behind him back into the loft below.   
“Then I guess they better get comfortable in Boston, baby.” Your smile was instantly reflected back at you from Connor face.   
“Aye, They can’t fuckin’ have her, Con. You know we can’t let her go.” Murphy wrapped a lazy arm around your hip before placing his chin in the curve of your neck.   
“No, brother. That we can’t do.” Connor looked up with a crooked smile that was higher on the left side than the right. “Let’s fucking go deal with this shit then; like the family that we are.”   
The following decent down the stairs was one of the longest you had ever made. You counted your own heartbeats in your head, and repeatedly begged yourself not to show your weakness by throwing up on the floor as soon as you made eye contact with your father.   
Your feet hit the concrete floor of the loft before you allowed your eyes to look up, but once they did, you instantly regretted it.   
The cold, steel stare of your father’s brown eyes penetrated you like an icy knife in your chest, making you increasingly unsure if you could actually stop yourself from puking. He was wearing a grey tailored suit, as he always did, and looked infuriated to be in the downside of Boston. Your mother stood slightly behind him, rather short at 5’4, and looking around the apartment with a disgusted look on her well manicured and maintained face.  
“Mom, Dad; what are you doing here?” You asked the question that you already knew the answer to, not because you wanted to hear them say the words, but because after 22 years of life, in this particular moment you were at a complete loss at how else to begin a conversation with your parents.   
“We’re hear to bring you home.” Your father’s booming voice echoed off of the walls of the loft, making you cringe slightly, however not seeming to effect the boys at all.   
“Well, I am really sorry that you came all the way here for me to tell you this, but I’m not going home. I am home. This is my home now, Dad, so you can just call back your taxi and have you and mom on the next flight out before she misses another neighbor’s daughter’s baby shower.”   
Your mother rolled her eyes with extreme dramatization at your words, however did not speak.   
“You think it’s appropriate for you to disrespect your mother in front of complete strangers? Is that the so called ‘adult’ that you’ve become?” Your father’s broad shoulders were rigid and his face showed no sign of amusement or compassion.   
“Complete strangers? Dad, since you have so rudely neglected to introduce yourself, allow me, this is Connor and Murphy MacManus, they’re who I have been living with since I left home. Boys, this is my father, Ross Wood, and my mother, Lucy.” You motioned to each of the boys as you spoke their names, though neither of them gave your parents so much as a nod in recognition.   
“They’re good to me, Dad, they took care of me when they didn’t have to. They are extremely important to me. Don’t you want to thank them for all they’ve done for your little girl?” You locked eyes with your father, feeling your nerves contract inside of you, however not showing any signs of weakness.   
“Which of them should I thank for turning you into a bar cruising whore, Rylee? Huh? It was Connor, wasn’t it? Connor who you were taking in the mouth when that PI found you?” Your father looked Connor dead in the face as he spoke, daring him to disrespect him. Connor, however, did not appear shaken.  
“It might be best if you watched your mouth in my home, Mr. Wood, especially when it concerns Rylee.” Connor didn’t move a single muscle more than what was necessary to speak his words.   
“I’m sorry, your what? You call this rat infestation a ‘home?’” Your father moved his arms outward, motioning around the single room apartment. “This is the kind of man you are, Connor? This is how you provide for my daughter? You expect her to live in the shambled roof that you put over her head? Please, Mr. MacManus, do tell me that you aren’t stupid enough to believe that my lovely daughter loves you.”  
“Dad!” You take a step forward as you attempt to defend Connor, only to be cut off.  
“No, Ry, let the man speak his peace. I want to hear what he has to say, after all, it’s not like he’ll ever be welcome in my place of residence again…” Connor also took a step forward, walking in front of you, challenging your father as Murphy moved up and subtly took you by the hand.   
“My daughter is nothing but a spoiled, bored, little girl. I have myself to blame for that, always making sure that she never wanted for anything, but what you need to realize, Mr. MacManus, is that you are nothing to her; nothing but an adventure away from home to anger Daddy. My daughter went to all the best schools that Salt Lake had to offer. She graduated both college and high school the same day, earning her Associates and her diploma simultaneously. My daughter is going to further pursue higher education; she is going to be someone that is not fit to breath the same air on the crowded subway as you. My daughter is going to marry some doctor or perhaps a high end business executive, and she will look back and remember her few months with you as a cute little rebellion she went through before she realized how unpleasant being poor actually is. I’m sure that you were a fun, sweaty escapade for her to have, Connor, but it’s time for her to come back to the real world now.”   
“Get out. Get out now!” Tears leaked down one cheek as anger bubbled inside of you with a ferocious fury. You couldn’t allow him, your father, of all people, to look at Connor as if he were nothing; as if he were not fit to have you.   
“How did she ever manage to become the beautiful, passionate, pistol that I know and love, with you as her father? Huh? Well, I guess it really clears up that whole ‘Nature vs. Nurture’ thing, don’t it? She was always going to be who she is, no matter what you had to do with it.” Connor’s eyes searched your father’s face, truly impressed with wonder as to how you had come from the home that you did.   
“Well, I do owe you my gratitude, Ross? Was it? Yeah, so, thank you. Thanks for bringing our girl into the world. You and Luc seem to have done a bang up job in the genes department, and uh, well, Rylee took the rest of it from there, didn’t she?” You watched as Connor’s smart-ass smirk set your father’s eyes a blaze. “So, now, if you could kindly get the fuck out of my apartment. I’d really appreciate it.”   
“Rylee Elizabeth! This is just ridiculous! Gather your things and let’s go, please. Your father is sorry, I’m sorry, you win, now come home.” This was the first time your mother had spoken since she had entered the loft. Your jaw dropped slightly in true and unbelievable shock.   
“Wait, you think I left because I was mad at you?” You were caught in an honest surprise as you, and everyone else in the room, stared at your mother.   
“Well, of course, I’m not sure what exactly it was, but we can talk about it on the plane ride home.” Your mother kept rubbing her arms with her hands as she spoke, as if she was deathly afraid that she might actually catch poverty.   
“Why?” Your eyes studied your mother; the fine details of her surgically youthful face, the perfectly manicured fingernails, and of course her completely compatible designer skirt and blouse ensemble.   
“Excuse me? What do you mean, ‘why?’” Your mother looked both bewildered and confused.   
“I asked you why. Why do you want me back so bad now? You never gave a shit before. What’s changed?”   
Your mother’s eyes moved up and down you, and then did a once over the room again before answering as lightly as she possibly could.   
“Your father has decided to run for Mayor, and having you home, having your support, would mean the world to both of us, Rylee.”   
You choked on your breath as you felt a completely unsurprised laugh escape you.  
“And there it is. My support, mom? Really? Is it my emotional support you want through dad’s tasking campaign, or is it my pretty face to complete the pictures you have already paid to have run in the Tribune back home?”   
“Rylee, stop it…”  
“No, mom, you stop it. I don’t give a shit about whatever ridiculous venture you two are embarking on now, I truly don’t. I’m done. I’m done with you, and I’m done with entertaining the idea that we were ever a family. I am staying here, with Connor and Murphy; this is where I belong. Now get out, both of you.” Your words were shrouded in ice and anger as you stared at both of your parents before pointing to the metal door that they had left ajar when they entered.   
Your mother begins walking towards the exit, her heels clicking against the concrete as she moves; your father, however, remains planted in front of Connor, his eyes locked on you.   
“You are coming with us.” His voice was little less than a scream as he focused on each individual syllable of his sentence.   
“No, dad, I’m really not.” You shake your head in argument as you answer him calmly.   
“God dammit!” Your father moved towards you as his words erupted from his vocal cords. His large hand clasped tightly around your thin wrist, yanking you towards his body. You felt yourself being dragged towards the hallway as your father made his way to leave. You knew that you were screaming objections, but you couldn’t hear yourself speak as you looked over your shoulder at Connor, your eyes meeting in genuine fear.   
Suddenly, before you had any time to process what was about to happen, there was the unmistakable sound of shattering glass bouncing off of the loft’s walls. Your father’s hand released your arm as he fell violently forward onto the stone floor.   
You pushed the hair from your face as you swung around to see Murphy, grasping the broken neck of a beer bottle in his fist. Quickly turning, you watch as your mother rushes to your father’s side as he clasps a heavy hand over his forehead where a deep gash is already spilling blood onto his expensive suit.   
“You touch her again, I’ll fuckin’ kill ya. Understand?” Murphy’s chest heaved with adrenaline as he watched your father through violent eyes that you had never seen him have before.   
Lucy helped Ross off of the floor and didn’t so much as grant you last glance as they exited the apartment. You felt Murphy’s fingers link back through yours as you continued to stare at the splattered blood drops your father had left behind.   
Connor followed them to the door, sliding it shut as they left.   
“Hey, good luck with your campaign, Mr. Mayor.” 

A bell dinged somewhere above your head as you exited the shop, a heavy bag thrown over your shoulder, and the cool Boston air whipping through your mess of hair.   
You had left the apartment only moments after your parents; chasing the idea of fresh air, knowing full well that that particular pleasure was rather hard to come by in this city.   
The street was crowded, making it all the easier for you to bump into fellow pedestrians, unaware of where your feet were taking you as your mind was miles away. Your stomach was still clenched in a tight, uneasy knot and you weren’t sure how to untie it.   
You had never witnessed Murphy be violent before, not really. Thoughts danced across your mind as you casually turned a corner, pushing past people like a salmon trying to swim upstream, just as you realize how much about the boys you still didn’t know. They had pasts that were little more than shrouded childhood memories, and Murphy had more than surprised you at his reaction to your father attempting to force you out of the loft.   
You were grateful; you had no intent on leaving, and quite frankly, you weren’t sure how far your father could have physically forced you to go; into the cab? Onto the plane? Murphy had stood there during the entire encounter, not so much as uttering a single word; letting you and Connor verbally argue back and fourth with mom and dad; however, it took him mere seconds to make the decision to assault your father with an empty beer bottle.   
You shrugged the heavy black shopping bag higher on your shoulder as you continued to wander about in your own mind. You weren’t sure what your actual plan was for your recent purchases, but you knew that this morning’s events had shaken you, much more than you wanted to admit out loud. You knew that you needed the feeling of security that you before had only achieved while being in the presence of the boys. You needed them to make you feel whole. You needed them to be there, to reassure you, that every word your father had spoken about you was not laced with truth. 

Pulling the heavy metal door open, you watch as Connor turns his head to look up at you from a one-man card game he had going with himself in the corner; Murphy was curled into the fetal position, fast asleep, in the middle of the shoved together mattresses.   
“Hey, I was wondering where you went.” Smoke curled around Connor’s head as he sucked on a half killed cigarette. You smile at him as you set down your bag and shrug off your coat.   
You drop to your knees and crawl to Murphy in the center of the bed, running your fingers through his beautiful mess of hair.   
“Rise and shine, handsome. You’re going to want to be awake for this.”   
Murphy groaned unintelligible words as he begins to stretch, a smile creeping across his lips when you bend forward to plant a light kiss on his forehead.   
You quickly make your way across the floor, ditching your boots in the corner and already unfastening your pants, before pulling a chair out from the card table.   
“Wow. Somebody’s in a mood.” Connor’s words are grumbles as he talks through the smoke still hanging limply in his mouth.   
“Shut up and take off your cloths, Con.”   
His eyes lock onto you for a mere moment, before chuckling to himself and shedding his tight black t-shirt and discarding it on the floor. “Whatever you say, baby.”   
Stealing the chair in which he was sitting, you quickly place it directly across from the other two that you had just moved to the center of the room. You glance over to see Connor looking at you, standing in nothing but his underwear and waiting for further instruction.   
“I said, ‘take off your cloths.’ Everything Con, let’s go.” You watch as Connor exhales loudly before dropping his drawers around his ankles and stepping out of them.  
“Hey, sleeping beauty, get naked.” Connor instructs a still yawning Murphy who had just now managed to open his eyes.   
“Murphy, baby, take off your cloths. Con, pick a chair.”   
“Where are you going with this?” Connor’s voice was curious, however he quickly took a seat in the chair closest to him on the left.   
You quickly turn your head around to watch Murphy’s glorious pale body come into full view as he too stepped out of his jeans and boxers. You can’t help but bite your lip as you watch Murphy stretch his long arms over his head, the muscles in his back moving and aching under the strain, before he takes a seat in the chair to the right of Connor.   
Your eyes take a moment to appreciate the delicious view laid out before you; both men, both naked, and both slouching in chairs before you, their eyes on you, ready to obey whatever command you dish out.   
You quickly delve into the black bag that you had come home with, pulling out six pairs of metal hand cuffs before dashing across the room to begin restraining each MacManus brother to his respective chair.   
“Somebody went shopping…” Murphy’s voice, still groggy with sleep, husked into your ear as you leaned over him to attach his wrists together behind his back with a single pair of hand cuffs, before dropping to the floor and locking each ankle to a leg of the chair.   
Leaning over Connor’s sun kissed skin, restraining his hands; you feel the tip of his tongue nip lightly at your collarbone, before traveling the length of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.   
Taking several steps backwards, both Connor and Murphy watch as you begin shedding your clothing at a painfully slow pace. You take your time undressing, letting their eyes long for a body that they both have seen so many times before. Your fingers caress our own skin, running the length of your torso as you finally drop your shirt into a pile by your feet. You hear both men groan deliciously as you finally allow your breasts to be free from their black bra prison, and Murphy in particular exhaled lustfully as you bent over before peeling your jeans from your body.   
Once you were fully exposed, you too took your place in the chair that sat opposite the boys’. Spreading your legs wide open, straddling the chair and allowing them to see all, you begin rummaging in the black bag at your feet once more.   
Excitement ignites inside of you as you hear both men groan when they watch you pull out an overly adequately proportioned vibrator.   
“Fuck, Ry.” Connor’s voice is low and longing as he watches you tongue the dildo, lubricating it before you begin your little show.   
You slowly dip the curved tip past your entrance and into your sex, hissing with pleasure as you force the toy in completely. At first, you fuck yourself slowly, allowing each savoring penetration to be witnessed fully by the boys, but within moments, the tip begins to nudge and tease your tender bundle of nerves deep within your core and you can’t stop the moans that begin to escape you; your body egging yourself on.   
You fling your head backwards as you continue to tease yourself, gliding the plastic dick in and out, over and over, getting yourself off on the animalistic urges written upon each of the men’s faces before you. Your thumb nudges the dial that begins the low vibrations, tickling your walls deep within.   
Biting your lip, you look down, watching as you fuck yourself; feeling the tight knots building in your stomach, watching the muscles in your thighs contract. You hear one of them fight against their metal cuffs, trying to free themselves in order to fuck you senseless. You look up at them and enjoy the view, knowing full well that they won’t be getting that satisfaction anytime soon.   
You quickly click off your new toy and place it on the ground beside you before rising to your feet and stalking towards Murphy.  
“Did you like what you see, baby?” Your words are little more than whispers as you take the time to tongue Murphy’s inner ear.   
“You have no idea what I am going to fucking do to you.” Murphy’s words are growled in a tone that set your skin on fire.   
You slowly run your finger tips down the front of Murphy’s body, rubbing your palm shamelessly against his rock hard member, causing him to toss his head backwards in longing. “I think I have a pretty good idea.”   
Leaving Murphy, you saunter over to Connor, straddling your naked body against his. “You’re a little hard, Con.”   
“I’m always a little hard when I’m with you, Darlin’.”   
You can’t help but smile at Connor’s coy flirtation despite his aching erection pressed against your more than damp core.   
Running your hands through his dirty blonde locks, you press your chest against his and place your mouth next to his ear. “Do you want to fuck me, Connor?”   
“Always.”   
“How do you feel about fucking him instead?” Your eyes, as well as Connor’s move over to where Murphy was cuffed to the chair.  
“Ry…” Hearing hesitation in his voice you quickly cut Connor off.  
“If you want to fuck me, you’ll fuck him.” Grinding your bare body against Connor’s, you dip your hand between his legs and begin to choke his erection between your fingers. “Please, baby. Do it for me. I want to get off to you two so, so bad…”   
“Fuck.” Connor chokes, and then reluctantly nods in agreement.   
“Good boy.”   
Lifting yourself off of Connor’s lap you take out a whip from your new bag of tricks, and slowly run the leather ends down the front of Murphy’s chest. “You going to take your brother like a champ for me, Murph?”   
A coy smile spreads across Murphy’s angelic face before he slowly nods.   
“Come here, baby.” You quickly release each of Murphy’s feet from the chair, but leave his wrists bond behind his back, leading him to the mattress, and forcing him down on his knees.   
Unlocking he cuffs that restrained Connor’s hands, you crouch down and quickly tongue the length of his shaft, earning yourself a more than gratifying groan of your name from Connor. You engulf him inside your mouth, making sure to allow your gag reflex vibrate against Connor’s aching head. You make sure to drench him, letting every bit of saliva you can muster coat Connor down to the base of his erection.   
“Motivation and lubrication, Con.”  
You quickly re-cuff Connor’s hands in front of his body, before pulling him towards Murphy and the mattress, his bound ankles dragging the chair across the floor with him.   
Connor willingly drops to his knees behind Murphy, his muscles in his stomach flexing beneath his tight skin.   
Exhaling deeply, you watch as Connor stares down the spine of his twin brother preparing himself for the numerous sins he is about to commit.   
“You going to fuck me, Con? Or should we switch places?” Murphy’s taunting words made Connor crack a wicked smile as his bound hands forced Murphy’s face down into the bed, elevating his ass into the air.   
“Watch yer mouth, Murph, or maybe I won’t go easy on you.”   
You could feel a flood already beginning to form between your legs as you watched Connor place the tip of his head at Murphy’s puckered entrance.   
His first thrust was slow, almost painfully so. You watched as Murphy clenched his eyes shut, biting his own lip through the harsh probing. Forcing himself in to the hilt, Connor throws his head back, looking towards the ceiling.   
“Holy shit.” Connor’s voice was gargled in lust.  
“You like that, Con? You like being inside Murphy’s tight ass.”   
Neither Connor nor Murphy answered you; the both seemed to have become lost in the smooth rhythm that their bodies had formed together.   
You turn around to take your place back on your chair, straddling it once more, legs spread, as you pick the vibrator up off of the floor.   
Your eyes could not leave Connor and Murphy; their bodies moving in fluid, powerful motion, was the single most erotic thing you had ever witnessed. Connor had grabbed a hold of Murphy’s cuffed hands and was using them as leverage as he snapped his hips back and forth; Murphy, his face half buried in the mess of sheets and bedspreads, was biting his bottom lip so hard that a thin line of blood was moving down his chin.   
You placed the toy on the gathering of nerves that sat at the top of your heat, slowly beginning the vibrations once more. You can’t help but let on a low gasp as you increase the power against yourself, watching as Connor dominates Murphy into a lustful puddle.   
“Fuck, Con, right there. Jesus Christ.” Murphy yelped against the mattress, signaling to both you and Connor that his dick had made contact with Murphy’s longing prostate.   
“You like that, Baby Brother?” Connor’s voice was husked and coated sin.  
Murphy’s response was not in the form of words, however he had started emitting a low whine that got louder with every movement of Connor’s tanned hips.   
Sweat was forming across Connor’s brow as you turned your dildo up even higher. His ferocious moans were filling up the loft and drowning out the buzzing of your own masturbation.   
“How does he feel, Con?” Your words were choked between self-gratifying moans.   
“So…fucking…tight…” Connor didn’t look at you as he responded; his eyes were locked downward as he watched himself move in and out of Murphy’s ass.   
“Con. Shit. I’m… I’m going to…” Murphy buried his face into the mattress before he could finish his sentence, moaning deeply as Connor continued to roll his hips against him, making sure to tease his most sensitive nerves.   
“I know, Baby Boy, me too.”   
You drop your vibrator to the floor and quickly grab the whip in your other hand, the pads of your feet softly bouncing off of the concrete as you walk towards Connor.   
“Put your cuffs around his neck.” You whisper your words into Connor’s ear, your voice barely audible over the boys’ mutual moans and obscenities.   
Without breaking his fluid penetrating motion, Connor quickly leans forward, throwing his linked wrists around Murphy’s neck; forcing him upwards off of the bed, the metal chain between Connor’s hands slowly cutting off Murphy’s oxygen.   
“Keep fucking him, Con. Choke him and fuck him until he screams for you to stop.”  
Eyeing the whip that lay loosely gripped between your fingers, Connor quickly retorts, “Or what, baby?”   
You don’t answer; instead you straighten your body up and lay the whip harshly across Connor’s back, the stringing sound of leather on skin echoing against the walls and windows.   
“Fuck. Yes.” Connor moans through gritted teeth.   
You lay the whip against his bare back again, the pain only fueling Connor’s fire as he plunges into his brother with renewed vigor.   
You glance down at Murphy who’s eyes and rolled back against the lack of air he was receiving, however he continued to buck himself backward against Connor’s crotch, still wanting to feel his twin inside of him.   
“Connor… Connor! Shit!”   
You watch as Murphy let’s loose before your eyes; shooting hot, white ropes of seed from between his legs onto the bed below. Murphy screamed loudly in Italian as he clenched his ass against Connor, tears of passion rolling down his pale cheeks.   
Connor could not control himself any longer once Murphy clenched against his shaft, making his insanely tight fit even more contracting.   
“Fuck. Fuck!” Connor removed his hands from around Murphy’s neck as he bucked furiously into him, riding out his climax for all it was worth.   
The two of them rolled apart, Murphy’s arms still bond behind his back, and Connor’s legs still cuffed to the legs of the chair. Chests heaving and sweat dripping, both boys had their eyes tightly shut as they begged their lungs to regain normal breathing.   
You stand above them for a moment, watching them regain their mental and physical stability, before Connor quickly grabs your wrist and yanks you down to join them in the sweat coated pile of limbs.   
Connor’s lips begin planting wet kisses against your jawline as Murphy’s tongue plays connect the dots with the freckles on your shoulder blades.   
“That toy fulfill your needs, Ry? Or do you still want a little bit of Irish in ya?” Connor’s voice sends bumps across your bare skin as you groan and push yourself back against Murphy’s body.   
“Do your worst, baby.”   
Your tongue rolls against Connor’s, the two of you traveling between your mouth and his.   
“You want me to choke and fuck you too? See how many people I can get off with my cock today…” You watch as Connor eyes Murphy teasingly, an evil smile playing across his cheeks.   
“You think you’re such hot shit don’t you?” Murphy’s voice was challenging and defiant.   
“Yeah, I pretty sure I am, Murph. ‘Connor! Connor! Shit. I’m coming, Connor.’” Connor openly mocked Murphy’s climactic cries as he grinned wickedly down at his twin.   
“Rylee, take these fucking things off of me.” Murphy’s pierced blue gaze was locked on Connor’s as he spoke. Wanting to watch what Murphy was capable of, you quickly removed the cuffs from his hands, releasing him to attack Connor and pin him against the sheets.   
“You think it’s funny? Huh?” Murphy’s words erupted through closed lips as he pinned his brother down with a knee in the small of his back. “Hand me that fuckin’ thing.” Excitement ignited inside of you as Murphy motioned for you to hand him your dildo. Handing it over, Murphy holds it up to your face while he still holds down a squirming Connor. “Lubrication, baby.”   
A smile appears across your face before you quickly lick and suck the vibrator, soaking it in your saliva, readying it for the journey you knew it was about to make. You relish in the look on Murphy’s face as he watches you deep throat the faux dick, before handing it back to him.  
Murphy pulls you into his mouth for a rough, passionate kiss before placing the tip of the vibrator at Connor’s entrance.   
“You ready for this shit, Con?” There was an overly gratifying tone in Murphy’s voice as he pushed the dildo past the puckered skin.  
Connor hissed deliciously as he took all of the toy in his ass, twitching harshly beneath Murphy; trying temporarily to escape from his brother before accepting and moaning gratefully at the rapid penetration of his hole.   
“You like that Connor? You like being my little whore?” Murphy spoke and you watched as his words did nothing but build erotic desperation in Connor’s eyes.   
“Faster, Murph. Fuck me, faster.” Connor pushed his ass upward to meet Murphy’s pushes, groaning in satisfaction and setting your sex on fire as he did so.   
“Give me that, you’ve got to go deeper if you want to make him come, Murph.” You grasp your hand around the thick dildo, pushing it deeper within Connor, making him cry out in pain and pleasure.   
“Jesus…” Connor turned his face into the blankets, muffling his cries.   
“Take control baby, fuck his ass.” Murphy leans back on his hands, watching as you pull out and reinsert your toy; watching as you drive Connor wild, his hands still cuffed and his legs still attached to the chair.   
“Kiss me. Kiss me while I fuck him.”   
Less than a second later Murphy’s tongue was wrapped around yours, his hand dipping between your legs and thumbing your clit. “You feeling neglected, baby? You jealous that nobody is fucking you?”   
“Shut up and put that dick in me.”   
Grasping your hips roughly, Murphy pulls you towards him before spinning you around and shoving you forward; allowing you access to still fuck Connor with the toy while he lines himself up at your aching entrance.   
His first penetration was fast and sudden, forcing you to take his cock to the hilt. You scream Murphy’s name as Connor still ruts his ass upward to meet your penetrations.   
“Beg me, baby.” Murphy, who had just had his ass owned, was in desperate need to feel dominant.   
“Please, Murph. Fuck me. Please, I need you to let me come, I’m so hot, baby.”   
Murphy threw his hips against you with animalistic vigor; making you scream with each and every new thrust. You could feel yourself soaking against his ridged cock, your walls flexing and milking him in desperation. You couldn’t handle any more teasing foreplay. You needed to explode; you needed to feel Murphy push you over your climactic cliff.   
You continued to throw the vibrator deep within Connor, quickly adopting the same delicious rhythm in which Murphy was currently ridding you through.   
“Deeper, baby, hit that fucking prostate for me.” Connor lifted his head and looked behind him to watch you push and pull against his ass.  
Your thumb found the vibration dial, and quickly, cutting to the chase, you turned the toy on to full power.   
“Gesù Cristo. Cazzo, più veloce. Non smettere. Ho intenzione di cazzo venire.” You were unable to understand that cries that escaped from Connor’s mouth as you bounced the fake dick into him, but there was no mistaking the passionate, lustful tone as he arched his back, lifting himself up as he allowed his seed to flood the bedspread beneath his body.   
You watched deliciously as Connor came all over your bed, heaving for breath as he rolled away from you, removing the dildo from his ass before tossing it across the room in triumphant fury.   
Watching Connor explode all across the mattress in front of you made you tumble quickly and unapologetically into your screaming orgasm. Murphy bucked against you, slapping your ass, stinging your skin as he followed closely behind you into mutual euphoria.   
You turned around just in time to watch a thin river of sweat trickle it’s way down the front of Murphy’s pale chest before he collapsed forward on top of you, unable to move from the power of his second epic explosion.   
The three of you laid in a shameless pile of come soaked limbs, all of you drifting slowly to sleep after the frustrating events of the last 12 hours.   
Just before you allowed yourself to give into slumber, Murphy’s voice floats softly into your ear; “You pulling shit like this makes me want to invite your parents over for dinner once a week.”


	21. St. Patrick's Day

Chapter Twenty-One:

 

“Darlin’… Rylee? Wake up, girl.”   
You stirred slowly, being coaxed from a delicious dream that was already quickly slipping through your fingers.   
“I don’t work tonight, let me sleep, Con.” Your voice was muffled as you took to hiding your face deep in the mattress.  
“Yeah, good thing too since it’s fuckin’ Saint Patty’s tonight! Now get that gorgeous ass of yours out of bed, we have got a sinful amount of drinkin’ to do tonight.”  
You let out a drawn groan and slowly pull yourself up to sit cross-legged on the bed, your hair taking on a mind of its own.   
“Connor? You do know that the whole drinking thing, that really is more your and Murph’s thing, right? Isn’t that something that you two should bond over? In a brotherly, Irish sort of way?”   
Connor’s hazel eyes quickly darted over to meet yours as he shot you a half-cocked smile while he turned the coffee on.   
“Oh, so uh, when you’re tired, suddenly Murph and I are in desperate need of some ‘brotherly bondin’’ was it?” Connor turned and leaned against the chipped countertop as he spoke.   
“Con!” Your voice made the jump from subtle to whiney desperation a little more quickly than you had expected; “I am exhausted. I feel like I haven’t slept in days. I have worked every night this week, and I don’t really get off on drinking, okay? Now, why… why can’t you and Murph go ruin your livers together like a real family?”   
Connor looked down at his filthy boots as he smiled; clearly amused by your childish pouting; before crossing the concrete floor and dropping to his knees so that the two of you were eye level.   
“Rylee Elizabeth, you are, as you have stated time and again, a part of this family. We love you, we accept you, and we welcome you. Now, that being said, the MacManus’ drink on Saint Patty’s Day; it’s what we do. So, put on pants; or don’t; I won’t objet either way; but you are going to the bar tonight, even if Murph and I have to drag you kickin’ and screamin’ the whole way there, aye?”   
Connor leaned in and planted a quick peck across your lips before standing back up and returning to his coffee, leaving you mumbling angry insults and damning Saint Patrick and his alcoholic ‘holiday’ as Murphy entered the apartment through the heavy sliding door.  
“Aye, babe. You gonna put pants on? I’m fine with the way you are, but keep in mind that you’ll be in a bar full of drunk Irishmen…”  
You continued to grumble as you sorted through a pile of cloths in the corner, finally pulling out a crumpled pair of jeans and heaving one heavy leg after another into them.   
“What the fuck is her deal? Ain’t she just our own little ray of sunshine?” Murphy took the cracked cup of coffee that Connor had offered him and joined his twin in leaning against the worn counter, the two of them observing your every move as you ran a brush through your tangled mess of brown locks.   
“Aye, she doesn’t want to go drinkin’, does she? Told me to take you to the bar for some ‘brotherly bondin’’. Connor sipped from him cup of caffeine, smiling at you as you pulled boots on across the room, glaring at the boys as you did so.   
“Brotherly bonding? Seriously? Rylee, I think we have had plenty of that as of late…” Murphy cracked his childish grin and gave an even more juvenile laugh as he looked to Connor for agreement.   
“Aye, dear brother, I do agree that our girl would be hard pressed to find two siblings more close, and uh, more ‘bonded’ than us.”   
Connor and Murphy both turned their gazes on you as you lit a cigarette in the far corner; you still being far too tired to appreciate their comical musings. 

McGinty’s was already filled with it’s brood of regulars when the three of you push your way through the wooden door. Rocco was throwing back shots between several other men, telling one of his racially inappropriate jokes while Doc fetched more beers and partook in almost as much alcohol as he served.   
“Rylee, my darlin’, I think I made a mistake in givin’ you the night off, love.” Doc’s words were slurred ever more than usual.  
“Why are you complaining Doc? By the look of your cheeks I’d say you already have a pretty decent buzz going on.” You smile broadly as Doc gives you a light chuckle in return to your comment.  
“Darlin’ it takes a lot more than a couple of beers to get this old man plastered.”   
“Well then I suppose we better buy you another damn drink then, aye?” Murphy slide into a bar stool next to you; planting a full-lipped kiss on your cheek before tossing cash onto the worn oak bar. 

The evening quickly turned into the early hours of morning as Murphy’s ranting became less and less intelligible, and Connor’s hands became more and more brazen. You had been milking your second beer of the night for well over two hours; but the boys as well as Doc, were far too drunk to have noticed that you weren’t.   
You sat on Connor’s lap as he rocked slowly from side to side in a squeaking barstool, while Murphy and you continued to share a cigarette even though there was a freshly opened pack sitting between you.   
Your cheeks ached due to the fact that Rocco had seriously been on one all night long; more than once sending you into a coughing fit from laughing too hard.   
The crowd of McGinty’s regulars had finally begun to thin as the bar was slowly whittled down to only seven or eight patrons. Doc had taken to sitting on a barstool himself, and telling Rocco to ‘get his own fuckin’ drink.’  
Murphy had just leaned in for a very smoke filled kiss when the door to the bar was forced open, slamming against the opposite wall, and gaining everyone’s drunken attention.   
Three thick necked, broad shouldered men stalked into the dimly lit pub. All of them were wearing cheap, freshly laundered, suits; and a rather excessive amount of gold jewelry.   
You feel Connor spin you around towards the door as the men entered; you quickly swallowed hard as you immediately recognize the bald man in the middle as Ivan; the sexist Russian pig who constantly was attempting to bully Doc out of the bar’s lease as well as make laughable attempts to seduce you.   
Ivan’s gaze quickly moved up and down your frame as you fought back the urge to gag on your own vomit. The man was nothing but hired mob muscle and he disgusted you beyond all explanation.   
“I’m Ivan Checkov, and you will be closing… now.” His thickly accented words set your teeth on edge as you slowly set your flat beer on the bar.   
You felt Connor’s weight shift beneath you as he went to stand up. Quickly pressing the palm of his hand onto your hip, Connor stepped in front of you, matching Ivan’s grimace with his own.   
Murphy was cracking some joke about an away team that you barely caught; your attention was squarely focused on Connor’s body movements, and the fact that you knew he was not going to leave Doc alone to be harassed and assaulted.   
“It’s Saint Patty’s Day, everyone’s Irish tonight. Why don’t you just sit down and have a drink with us?” Murphy’s offer was dismissed just as quickly as you had anticipated it would be.  
Ivan knocked Murphy’s drink from his hand, causing all the remaining bar patrons to quickly stand up and take their places behind him, like some drunken soldiers falling in line.   
“Murph…” Saying his name earned you nothing, but a hand in the air. Murphy’s eyes were locked in a violent challenge with Ivan’s.   
“Hey Boris, What would you do if I told you that your Pinko Commie mother sucked so much dick, her face looked like an egg?”  
Rocco’s mouth was quickly addressed with a thick Russian fist for his insult; an act that made you inhale deeply because you were all too aware that Connor and Murphy would not let the offense slide.   
The boys wasted no time in verbally attacking Ivan in his foreign tongue; only to take one last swig off of their drinks before sucker punching the mob enforcer square in the gut.   
Doc quickly wrapped a weathered hand around your wrist and pulled you behind the bar with him in an effort to protect you from the brawl. You watched as all of the buzzed Saint Patty’s Day celebrators joined Connor and Murphy in their violent efforts. Ivan and his friends were sorely out numbered and you knew too well that they had decided to fight a losing battle.   
You watched as one of the men cornered Murphy near the wine racks and punched him twice in the jaw, knocking him to the bench seat below.   
“Murph!” His name escaped your lips before you knew what had happened.  
Two other bar regulars went to his aid just as Connor screamed, “Leave him alone! He can take care of himself!”   
No sooner did the words echo across the pub, then Murphy grabbed two bottle from the rack above him and turned them into weapons against the Russian soldier’s head.   
Less than five minutes had passed since Ivan and his crew had entered McGinty’s, and the three of them all lay in a slumped over heap in the middle of the blood and booze soaked floor.   
“You okay, baby?” Murphy’s soft voice caught you off guard as he came up from behind you, wrapped his arms loosely around your hips.   
“I’m fine, Doc pulled me back here. Let me see your face…” Cradling his delicate cheeks in your hands, you quickly assess the damage done to Murphy’s porcelain skin.   
“It’s nothin’ to worry about, Ry. You still think I’m pretty, don’t ya?” Murphy’s half-cocked smile spread warmth through your gut faster than any alcohol could ever do.   
“Gorgeous, Mr. MacManus.”   
“Doc, what do you want us to do? Take out the trash for ya?” Murphy looked past you to talk to the old man who was leaning against the bar.  
“Oh no…” you turned your head as Connor’s voice caught your attention; “We ain’t done with them yet, brother.”   
“Con… Can’t you just dump them in the ally? We can go home?”   
You knew pleading with Connor, especially a drunk Connor, was usually pointless and you almost kicked yourself for even attempting as he shook his head ‘no.’  
“Help me get this bastard up on the bar.” Connor’s domineering command earned him a nod from Murph as he quickly jumped back over the bar to assist his brother.   
You watched nervously as the boys strapped Ivan down, tying the half unconscious man to the bar.   
“Doc, toss me that bottle of Hennessey, would ya?” Connor had pushed up the sleeves of his shirt and had a cigarette sitting behind both ears as he spoke.   
“Aye.”  
“Con, what are you going to do?”  
“Nothin’ they don’t deserve, love.” Connor gave you a quick wink of his right eye just before he began dousing Ivan’s backside in alcohol.   
Ivan groaned loudly, still obviously dancing somewhere between asleep and awake.   
Connor pulled the smoke from behind his left ear, throwing it upwards and catching it between his damp lips. “Murphy, you got a light?”  
Without answering, Murphy promptly tossed Connor the lighter that was sitting next to his freshly poured drink on the bar.   
With a quick rise of his eyebrows as thanks, Connor lit his smoke and inhaled deeply, eyeing the restrained Ivan, who was just barley starting to come back around to consciousness.   
You knew what Connor was going to do before he did it, but you were well aware that there was nothing you could do to stop him.   
Biting your bottom lip, you watched in silence as Connor tossed the burning ember end of his cigarette down onto Ivan, quickly causing his entire ass to be engulfed in flames.   
Ivan’s screams could be heard for blocks as he squirmed and fought desperately against his restraints.   
Connor sat there and listened, watched as the Russian choked and sputtered on the pain caught in his throat. “Alright, somebody put this mother fucker out.”   
Ivan was doused in water, only to have the pain send him right back into unconsciousness.  
Lighting the second smoke from behind his other ear, Connor stalked over to the end of the bar where you were sitting. “Now we can dump them in the ally and go home.” 

 

You were quite the majority of the short cab ride home. You listened as the boys retold the story of their epic battle over and over again, the laughter increasing with each new version.   
It wasn’t that you felt pity for Ivan, you had hated the man since you had first met; but there was an undeniable pit in your stomach that told you the repercussions of this night were far from over.   
“You okay, babe?” Connor’s voice caught your attention just as the cab pulled up next to the curb in front of your apartment building.   
“Yes, I’m fine. Just worried.”  
“Murphy, pay the man.” Connor gestured towards the driver up front as the three of you all clambered out of the backseat.   
The night’s air whipped through your hair as Connor wrapped a lazy arm around your shoulders. “Worried about what, love? You developed a crush on Ivan?”  
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Not even funny when you’re drunk, Con…”  
“You have nothing to worry about, alright? It was a bar fight. It was nothing. Let’s go the fuck to sleep?”   
Connor held the front door open for you and Murphy to walk in, however, Murphy waved him off. “Con, we’ll be up in a second. I’m going to kill another smoke before bed, our girl is gonna give me some company.”  
Too drunk and tired to argue, Connor quickly disappeared inside without any further argument.   
Turning to face Murphy, and to accept the lit cigarette he was offering to share with you; your eyes quickly lock up with his.   
“You really okay? Positive?”   
You nodded in response, taking a deep and prolonged drag of tobacco.   
“I’m fine. I just can’t help but be worried that we may have started something that I don’t want to continue.”   
“Fuck, babe, those assholes have been harassing Doc for months, you know that…”  
“I know.”  
“…And now they fuckin’ got what was comin’ to ‘em. There isn’t anything to worry about. I mean, would you come back to the place where you had several layers of skin seared off your ass?”   
Murphy always had the ability to make you choke on your own laughter, especially when you weren’t in a humorous mood.   
“There it is…”  
“There’s what?” you asked, passing the smoke back to Murphy’s outstretched hand.   
“That smile, the one that I saw all those months ago and knew I had to have for my own.”   
Murphy took two generous steps forward and propped the collar of his pea coat up to block any stray wind from whipping your face.   
You couldn’t help but nuzzle the tip of your nose into the thin layer of cotton that sat on his chest; deeply inhaling his original musky scent.   
“That’s all I ever wanted to be; yours.”   
You felt the rough calluses on Murphy’s fingers rub the sensitive skin on your jawline as he lifted your face up to meet his. You melted into him as his arms wrapped around you, the tongues in either of your mouth pushing against one another in a perfect rhythm.   
Murphy, still tasting strongly of whisky and smoke; sank his hands down into your jeans, teasing you as the two of you moved towards the entrance of the building.   
“I love you, you know that?” Your words were mere whispers against Murphy’s mouth.  
Murphy nodded against your collarbone as he nuzzled deep into the curve of your neck; planting sloppy kisses down the slope and onto your shoulder.  
“You want to take this upstairs?” Your lustful voice was not wasted on Murphy has you felt no hesitation before his head shook firmly back and forth; “No.”  
Before you could question Murphy as to why not, he had spun you around and was already yanking your jeans roughly past your knees.  
“Murph…” Your eyes darted down the street, however there was no one in sight.  
Murphy shoved you forward, catching you just before you hit the ground.  
You heard the tell-tell noise of his belt being unbuckled, followed by the delicious sound of his zipper being undone.   
A breeze whipped across your exposed skin, sending a chill down your spine. You felt Murphy’s throbbing head being placed at the beginning of your delicate folds and you inhaled deeply; gripping the cement stairs on which you kneelt; preparing yourself for the plunge.   
With a single snap of his hips, you cry out into the night as Murphy fills you completely. Your walls stretch to accommodate his girth, however Murph gives you little time to adjust as he grips your hips tightly beneath his fingers and slides you off of his solid erection, leaving just the tip dipped within your sex.   
The second violent thrust is just as staggering as the first, earning Murphy a frantic moan of his name into the night’s silence. The third push of his hips against your ass is nearly more than you can bear as you feel his aching head make contact with that aching and teased bundle of nerves that sit deep within your core.   
You nearly choke on his name as the thrust become more rapid. Murphy holds firm to you, however he allows you enough wiggle room to roll your hips against him, giving you permission to meet each and every one of his movements with one of your own.   
“Fuck, Murph! Yes! Ride me, baby!” Your voice is cracked in lust as you slam yourself backwards onto his cock, taking him in to the hilt.   
“You like that, lover? You’ve been a very naughty girl…”   
You feel a flood generate between your thighs as Murphy teases you with his filthy mouth.   
“I have, Daddy. Teach me a lesson. Make me want to be a good girl… such a good girl.”   
You arch your back and bite your bottom lip as Murphy rocks you against the concrete, leaving what you are sure is going to be a bloody mess all over your scraped knees.   
Murphy quickly grasps a hand full of your hair and yanks your head back, gaining him even more leverage as he buries himself deeper and deeper still.   
A loud slap echoes down the street and into the night as Murphy plants a firm slap of his palm against your bare ass.   
“Yes! Fuck! Again!” The pain of the slap and the yanking of your hair, coupled with the mind numbing pleasure of Murphy’s cock was enough to make you beg for mercy.   
Murphy slapped you again, and again; fucking you senseless and bruising your ass to the point where you would be unable to sit right for days.   
A thick knot twisted and turned deep in your gut and you knew that you were quickly nearing the point of no return. Your panted breath moaned Murphy’s name with every new penetration. You couldn’t stop yourself from begging him; begging him to not stop.   
“Fuck, I’m coming! Murphy, shit, don’t stop…” The scream you let out as a white-hot light rocketed from between your legs was enough to wake the entire building. Your walls pulsated and milked Murphy’s cock to his climactic edge as he groaned deeply, emptying his seed shamelessly into your heat.   
“Fucking, shit girl.” Murphy let out a half chuckle as he pulled up the jeans that had fallen past his ass and were sitting just above his knees.   
You flipped over to examine your knees before replacing your clothing. Just as you had expected, deep cuts from the rough staircase had cut into your skin.  
“Ah, baby…” Murphy quickly dropped to his knees; wiping away the blood on his thick coat.   
“It’s nothin’ to worry about, Murph. You still think I’m pretty?”  
Murphy looked up into your eyes, a smile traveling across his pale face at the speed of light.  
“Gorgeous.”


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two:

 

Rough skin well equipped with a five o’clock shadow brushed harshly against the delicate skin of your right breast; waking you from your deep sleep.   
The moon was high above you in the sky, lighting the loft well enough for you to look down and watch as Connor took your nipple between his teeth.   
Groaning louder than you had intended, you arched your back at the sudden stimulus. Running stray fingers through Connor’s mess of hair, you dug your nails in as two rough digits explored between the folds of your sex.   
“Con! God…”   
His fingers slipped further down, testing your entrance.   
“Awe, there’s my girl… You’re always so ready for me.”   
You bit your lip in an attempt to muffle your upcoming moans as you felt two thick fingers push their way inside of you, massaging the very spot, that Connor knew all too well, would drive you wild.   
His tongue did laps around your nipple in between small nips and bites from his teeth. You couldn’t help but spread your legs wide as Connor pumped a third finger into you; working his hand in circles and putting enough pressure on your g-spot to make you unforgivably caught between asking him to stop or screaming for him to fuck you.   
You were well aware that you were soaking his hand as you felt yourself begin to tip towards a climax. You grabbed hungrily for the aching and tragically neglected shaft between Connor’s legs; working him from the hilt to the head at a rapid pace.   
“Fuck, Rylee!” Connor’s panting made Murphy stir slightly next to you, however he did not seem to be awake.   
“Harder, Con, harder. Fuck, I’m close.”   
Moving his free hand to pin you down by your stomach, Connor pumped his hand in and out of your core frantically; quickly turning your legs to mush as you couldn’t help but try and squirm away from him.   
You clung harshly to Connor’s cock, milking it raw, running your thumb over his slit with every other jerking motion. You could feel his nectar slowly leaking out into your palm, and in that moment there was literally nothing you wouldn’t have done to have Connor MacManus fill you.   
“Connor, baby, fuck me…please?” Your pleading was desperate as Connor looking into your face, his thumb rubbing tight circles over your clit.   
Connor’s eyes darted to Murphy who still remained in a slumber beside you, his breathing slow and his eyes closed.   
Climbing onto the concrete floor, Connor pulled you down to the edge of the mattress by your hips, throwing your long legs around his waist.   
Unable to wait any longer you grabbed for Connor’s erection, placing the head of him at your entrance and eagerly jutting your hips towards him.  
“Baby girl hungry for it, huh?”   
“Fuck, Connor. Get inside me.”   
Snapping his toned hips forward, you couldn’t help but cry out Connor’s name as you felt him spread your walls to the maximum capacity.   
Cupping your left breast in one hand and holding tightly to your jaw with the other, Connor rocked himself in and out of your while rolling his tongue against yours in the same rhythmic motion.   
You could taste his last smoke that still lingered in his mouth, and smell the slight tinge of sweat that was radiating off of his damp night skin. You watched the muscles in Connor’s back roll and flex as he fucked you deeper; slower, teasing you with the orgasm that you were so close to.   
“Baby, let me come, I’m so fucking close… fuck me harder.” Your request was quiet and barely audible over Connor’s low, animalistic groans.   
His teeth grazing the skin of your neck, you felt him bite down and suck hard, adding just enough pain to your pleasure, and earning him a loud ‘fuck me,’ in return.   
“Connor! For Christ’s sake, stop fuckin’ teasin’ the girl, will ya?”  
Connor stopped mid thrust and you both instantly shot your heads up in Murphy’s direction at the sudden sound of his voice.   
“Murph, baby?” Your voice was timid and you were suddenly very aware to the fact that he had probably been awake as long as you had.   
Murphy rolled over and looked at both of you in your compromising position, his bright blue eyes electric in the moonlight.   
His view scanned over you and Connor; your legs wrapped tightly across Connor’s bare ass, his hand still clutching strongly to your breast.   
Without another word, Murphy crawled over to the side of the bed where you lay beneath his brother and invaded your mouth with the tongue that you knew you could never get tired of tasting.   
You melt into Murphy’s mouth, rolling your tongue in and out, gently moaning in satisfaction as you feel Connor slowly continue to push his still rigid cock back inside of you.   
Murph looked over at Connor, who was testing the waters and waiting for Murphy’s approval and permission to continue your escapade. With a small nod from the dark haired twin, you felt Connor’s teasing pace continue between your legs as you bit your lips and looked up into Murphy’s eyes.   
You groaned quietly as Connor’s pace began to quicken, but couldn’t help but smile broadly as you catch Murphy silently mouthing the words ‘I love you’ through the moonlight.   
Connor quickly took your right breast in his mouth again; sucking hard enough to make you wail in both agony and sexual angst as you look down and watch him bounce between your thighs.   
You look up to see Murphy watching too, hunger building behind his crystal blue gaze.   
Knowing exactly what it was he wanted; you let your fingers stray across the crumpled bedspread and grasp longingly between Murphy’s legs. Jutting his hips forward in your aid, you are unsurprised to find a massively aching erection building between Murphy’s legs, eager to be taken care of.   
You let your palm tease his sensitive globes, rolling his sack back and fourth, lightly squeezing and thoroughly enjoying the look of Murph rolling his eyes back into his head as you do so.   
Grasping his head tightly between your fingers, you run the tip of your thumb over his slit, working it back and fourth, trying to earn the early, sticky, seed on your finger tips.   
Connor, still working tight knots in your stomach as he pushes himself in and out of your soaked sex, continually bringing you to your brink before letting you tumble back down without climaxing; you begin working Murphy in your hand, quickly, showing your growing frustration at Connor’s painfully slow pace.   
Within moments, Connor realizes that you are choking Murphy’s engorged shaft between your fingers; and instantly slams himself into you with a force that catches you completely off guard.   
‘Jesus Christ, Connor! Fuck, Yes!”   
Your moans are desperate as you pant Connor’s name over and over as he thrusts his leaking head between your folds, fighting for your sexual attention.   
“Yes, baby, just like that. Fuck me, Con, fuck me!”   
Shifting his weight back onto his feet, Connor pulls you tightly around his waist and grabs you by the hips, forcing you down onto his thick girth. You know you’re close and can barely take much more, causing you to absent-mindedly forget to continue working Murphy’s neglected shaft.   
“Connor, I’m so fucking close,” you moan in ecstasy.   
“You don’t start watching that dirty mouth of yours, baby, I might just have to punish it,” Murphy growled in lustful jealousy.  
Without any hesitation, you grip Murphy tightly in your palm and pull him towards your open mouth. Letting his weight fall above you, Murph wastes no time in beginning to thrust against your waiting lips.   
Tasting his salty anticipation on your tongue, you suction your mouth around Murphy’s throbbing dick, running your tongue down his length as he thrusts his hips in and out against your face.   
Connor, gripping your hips tight, slams you down mercilessly onto his cock, driving you wild and causing you to gag and choke on Murphy whose assaults on your mouth grow increasingly more vicious and desperate by the second.   
You wrap your arms around Murphy’s tight waist, gliding his thrusts and swallowing every drop that escapes his leaking head as it continues to make contact with the back of your throat.   
“Shit, I’m fuckin’…” Connor’s voice, caught in his throat, hits your ears and you know that he too is quickly loosing the ability to fight off the climax that the two of you have been teasingly building between you.   
You quickly clench your walls around Connor’s shaft, pushing him over the edge as you finally allow yourself to let lose the orgasm that has been painfully waiting in your stomach for ages now.   
You cry out with Murphy in your mouth, allowing your vocal cords to vibrate and tease Murphy’s head as he fucks your face at a frightening speed.   
Knowing that he is closer than ever while watching Connor ride out his euphoria, you quickly allow a stray finger to make it’s way up and into Murphy from behind, all at once putting pressure on his overly sensitive and engorged prostate.   
“Holy shit…Fuck, Ry!”   
Within seconds you feel Murphy spill his seed down your throat, gutted moans escaping his slack jawed mouth before he gently rolls away from you.   
No words are spoken as the three of you clamber back into your respectful places in the bed. You nuzzle your face deep into the small patch of wispy black hair on Murphy’s pale chest as he rests a lazy hand on your jaw line. Connor spoons from the other side and buries his face deep in the confines of your dark locks. You find sleep much faster than you anticipated; which in the near future makes you later wish that you had savored that moment just a little longer. 

 

The three of you did not rise with the sun, as it was already well awake when the front door came crashing open.   
You jumped awake with a start, clinging the bedspread to your chest you saw Ivan clamber his way across the cement floor, one of his Russian flunkies closely in tow behind him.   
“Freeze, you fucking Irish faggots!” His words so angry that they were difficult to decipher through his thick accent, Connor quickly pressed his back against you in a feeble attempt protect you from the vicious, gun-totting, mafia soldiers.   
The boys seemed shockingly unfazed by the intrusion, as they both pulled on boxers, robes, and boots; however before they could tie them, Ivan struck Connor hard across the forehead with the butt of his gun, screaming for you all to ‘get the fuck up.’  
“Connor!” you screamed, attempting to go to him before Ivan turned his gun on you.  
“Another move, and I will blow your little whore heart straight out of your body.”   
“Rylee put this on.” Murphy tossed you an old robe off of the floor near by, and as you wrap yourself up in it, Murphy takes his place in front of you. “You wanna point a gun at someone, put it at me, eh? She didn’t do anything to you, I mean, besides refuse to fuck ya.”  
Murphy’s smart mouth comment earned him a backhand from Ivan’s companion, knocking him backwards onto the mattress. You wrap your arm around Murphy’s shoulders, pushing his hair back from his eyes.   
“Baby…” You know that your voice is trembling as you whisper into Murphy’s ear.   
“I love you; know that, okay?”   
A pit in your stomach churned dangerously at Murphy’s words as he rose up from the bed once more; standing in front of the gun, which was pointed at his chest.   
“Get up!” Ivan kicked Connor and then half drug him across the loft’s hard floor towards the toilet.   
“Put these on, now!”   
Forcing handcuffs onto one of his wrists, Ivan pointed the barrel of his gun into the back of Connor’s neck, directing him to cuff himself to the bottom of the toilet.   
“You know why I come here, huh? I come here to kill you, but now, I don’t think I fucking kill you, I kill your brother, and your little bitch; shoot them both in the head.”   
At Ivan’s words Connor immediately began pulling frantically at the cuffs, rocking against the porcelain toilet with all his might.   
“No! Fuck you! Murph!”  
“Connor! Connor!” Murphy called out to Connor. “It was just a bar fight, you guys are fuckin’ pussies.”   
“Get your fucking ass up!” Ivan quickly turned the gun on you, directing you to follow Murphy out of the loft.   
Wrapping the robe tightly around you with your arms, you look back at Connor for a single glance before being shoved out of the apartment’s sliding metal door.   
As you entered the elevator, you could hear Connor’s frantic voice screaming your and Murphy’s names.   
Ivan’s flunky shoved the tip of his gun roughly into the small of your back, before leaning forwards and deeply inhaling the smell of your hair.   
“You sure we should kill this one right away? Uh? This one looks like fun…”   
“I will fucking kill you, I swear to god…” Murphy’s words were spoken through a clenched jaw as he attempted to move towards you before Ivan grabbed hold of him by the neck.   
“Ivan, why don’t you just shoot me and you two can go fuck yourselves? Huh?”   
The second man leaned forward again, this time licking up the length of your cheek and making you cringe from head to toe.   
“No, we will be having a good time with you; many good times. Enough times to satisfy me for a lifetime… and then, I will kill you.”   
“You fucking touch her…” Murphy started.  
“Shut your fucking mouth!” Ivan screamed as the elevator came to a halt on the ground floor.   
Guns in your backs, the Russians directed you and Murph out of the building and back into the ally way; bringing you to a stop next to the over flowing dumpster.   
“Get on your knees, both of you!” Ivan directed; “You, for a different reason…” Both the Russians gave a hearty laugh as you and Murphy took your places, side by side, on the pavement.   
“Bad idea, Ivan. I swear to god, I’ll fucking bite it off.”   
A quick slap across your cheek was the price you paid for your threat as Murphy called both of them every foul name imaginable.   
Ivan took his place in front of Murphy, point his weapon square in between Murphy’s eyes.   
“Murphy, I love you.” The words escaped your mouth as fast as they can; terrified that this is the last time that you’ll ever be able to say them.   
Murphy’s blue eyes dart to the side and look at you, watching as tears stream down your pale cheeks.   
“I love you too.”   
“Touching; but I hope your conscious is clear, Irishman.”   
Ivan’s laugh echoed through the deserted ally way, just as you looked up.   
Before you could even form words, your jaw dropped in absolute astonishment. From the rooftop above you, you could see Connor, who had actually managed to pull the toilet from the concrete floor, and was holding it over the side of the building.   
Following your gaze, Murphy too looked up and saw his twin brother stepping up to the edge, his arms full of porcelain.   
“Oh, shit…” Murphy’s voice was no more than a whisper, and no sooner did he speak than Connor leapt from the rooftop, throwing the toilet from his hands as he did so.   
“Connor!” His name escapes your mouth as you watch him fall from high above you, terrified that you had just witnessed him leap to his death.   
Directing his eyes to what you were screaming at, Ivan’s flunky looked upwards but it was too late. Ivan never saw the toilet before it hit him; smashing over his skull and killing him instantly, long before his heavy body made contact with the ground. Milliseconds later, Connor made contact with the second Russian, knocking him to the pavement, and therefore, softening Connor’s fall.   
“Connor! Con!” Murphy immediately jumped up from his knees and ran over to assess his brother’s condition. Following him, you watch as Murph checks his pulse.   
“Alive,” the word is breathed in an exhale of relief as you gently take Connor’s still cuffed wrists in your hands. The skin was broken and bloody, obviously due to the force in which it took to pull the toilet up from the floor.   
Just as you touch the wound on Connor’s forehead, you see Ivan’s companion begin to roll over and rise.   
“Murph!” You shout and point behind him.   
Jumping back up to his feet, Murphy picks up the top of the toilet tank and begins mercilessly beating the man in the head with it. You don’t turn away, or even wince when you hear the foreboding sound of his skull cracking.   
“We gotta get the fuck outta here.” Murphy’s voice was panicked as he shot a quick glance down both ends of the ally, double-checking that there were no other witnesses. “Quick, help me roll them.”   
You stand up and assist Murphy is stripping the two gangsters of everything of value that they have on them: money, watches, pagers, rings, and of course, weapons.   
After bagging it up, you stand back and watch as Murphy pulls Connor’s unconscious body onto his shoulders.   
“Baby, you need to take that shit to Doc. He’ll keep you safe at the bar until we can come for ya. I need to get this one to the hospital.”  
“Bullshit, Murph. I am not letting you take him alone.”  
“Ry, I got him, go wait at the fuckin’ bar until I come for you.” Murphy’s voice was strained under the weight of carrying his brother.  
“No! I am not leaving! I mean, what if he…” Your voice faded as you looked up into Murphy’s eyes. The truth was that Connor was alive, but you weren’t completely sure that he would stay that way. He had just jumped off of the roof.   
“Fuck, fine. Let’s go.”


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three:

 

The initial moments after you walked past the sliding Emergency Room doors were little more than a rolling blur of movement in your memory.   
You watched as nurses and doctors quickly surrounded Murphy, lifting Connor from his weighed shoulders, and quickly dropping him onto a rolling stretcher. You chased after them down the hall as the medical personal barked questions at you and Murph.   
“What happened?” An aged woman who wore the stress of her career in each line on her face demanded an answer from you as Murph dashed in front of you, telling a nurse Connor’s blood type and age.   
“He jumped… He, he fell…”   
The morning’s events were quickly beginning to take refuge in your mind. The Russians, the guns, the unbelievable fear of coming eye to eye with loosing the boys as well as your life; everything was heavy and you were suddenly feeling faint.   
“He jumped? From what?”  
Your bare feet continued to walk quickly down the cooled tile floor and around the corner as the medics rushed Connor towards a brightly lit room at the end of the hall.   
“He fell, it was an accident. He fell off of our roof.”   
A young man dressed in blue scrubs turned to Murphy in front of you; “Why are his hands cuffed?”   
“We’re into some kinky shit, alright; can you fuckin’ cut ‘em off or not?”   
They had put an oxygen mask over Connor’s face and you watched through the transparent plastic as his breath moved out past his lips.   
He had not awoken the entire twelve block journey to the ER as Murphy had huffed and repositioned him across his shoulders every thirty paces or so. Neither of you had said a word as you walked down deserted alleyways, trying your best to avoid too much public attention.   
You watched Connor’s unconscious body sway with the movement of Murphy’s steps; expecting any second for him to suddenly awaken and slide off of Murph’s shoulders, demanding a beer.   
The wind had whipped through your hair as well as your thin and worn robe, leaving you all too aware at how nude you actually were underneath the thin material. You clung to the used sack in which you and Murphy had thrown all of the Russian’s valuables; hugging it to your abdomen, trying to convince yourself to not be sick.   
Murphy and Connor had murdered those two men…   
You knew that their actions were completely justified, and you knew that if Connor had not jumped from the top of the roof, that Murphy would be dead and that, best case scenario, you would be a Russian’s sex slave. However, you could not seem to shake the fear of what was going to happen next.   
How severe were Connor’s injuries?   
Were you all looking at possible murder charges?   
What the hell were you going to say to the doctors, let alone the cops?  
None of these questions seem to be circulating their way through Murphy’s mind; or if they were, none of it shown on his face. There was no curiosity or fret behind those blue eyes that were strictly focused on the next step his heavy boots were about to take; there was only determination.   
There was only Connor.   
Murphy didn’t have another single thought in his head beyond taking care of his brother, and you sure as hell were not going to disrupt that level of focus.   
“MacManus; M-A-C-M-A-N-U-S; Connor. His name’s Connor.”   
Your bare feet were freezing on the sterile tile of the exam room. You watched as Murphy chewed on his thumb while telling the nurse Connor’s information, but never let his eyes off of his unconscious twin.   
Slowly, almost as if you were afraid to disturb him, you slowly took Connor’s hand in yours, linking your fingers and caressing the top of his hand with your thumb.   
“Ma’am. Ma’am?”  
You suddenly became aware that someone was speaking to you and snapped out of your worried haze.  
“Huh?”  
“I need to give him an IV.”   
The male nurse who spoke was young, his eyes were green and he had a small gap between his front teeth. The swinging plastic covered badge that hung around his neck told you that his name was Josh.  
He motioned for you to slide over so he could get around you and apply the IV. You reluctantly placed Connor’s hand back on the bed and were just about to step aside when Josh’s voice reached your ears again.  
“You don’t have to let go…you can still hold his hand. I just need to get to his forearm.”   
Josh rolled Connor’s arm out and began to rub alcohol where he planned on putting the needle; still allowing you to link your petite fingers with Connor’s overly callused ones.   
“Thank you.” Your words were a mere whisper and you felt Josh glance up at you, however you were once again lost, staring at Connor’s closed eyes.   
The nurse with the clipboard and walked out of the door, assumingly to go and put all of Connor’s information into some computer system somewhere. A loud screech sounded as Murphy pulled a heavy chair across the tile so that he could sit opposite you on Connor’s other side.   
Your eyes darted to Murphy who was watching Nurse Josh put the IV into his brother; first taking several blood samples before starting a drip.   
“He your husband?” Josh looked down, speaking to you again. His voice was kind and you knew that he was trying to offer a tone of comfort.   
“No, he’s…” You heard your own voice trail off and felt a small knot tie in your stomach at the thought of trying to explain your relationship with Connor in a simple title. You caught Murphy’s eyes out of the corner of your view; his stern gaze was a harsh contrast with his crystal blue eyes. His hair was matted and sweat had saturated the robe he was wearing. “…He’s Connor.”   
You knew without looking that Josh was giving you a puzzled look, however that explanation was the best you could do under the current circumstances.   
“Oh…Well, I may be speaking too soon, but my professional opinion is that he’ll probably be fine.”   
You shot your head up immediately to look at Josh, to try and read the expression as he spoke.  
“I mean, yeah, he’s definitely banged up… He’ll need an X-ray, possibly a CAT scan, but his vitals are strong. It appears that he just knocked himself out when he fell.”  
Your eyes ran across the room to find Murph, who you watched release the weight of the world from his shoulders.   
“Serious? He’s not gonna…fuck…die?” Murphy’s voice cracked mid way through his sentence as he leaned forward in his chair that he had pulled from the corner of the room.   
“No. I mean, yes, someday, but I highly doubt your brother,” Josh took a pause and looked toward your direction, “…Connor, will die today.”   
You felt tears well up in your eyes as you released a heavy breath from deep within your chest.  
“Thank you.” Your words were soft and quiet, but received a nod and half of a smile from Josh before he left the room.  
“You okay, Darlin’?” Murphy was arching his back in the flimsy hospital chair, stretching his spine and looking up at the ceiling as he spoke.   
“I’m better than I was… I’m better now that we know that Connor’s vitals are fine. I’m better because I know that he’ll wake up in a few hours and we can get the fuck out of this disease ridden death trap known as a hospital; but am I okay? No, Murph. How the hell could I possibly be okay? Are you okay?” Your voice had become shrill near the end of your rant and you hated yourself for hitting such high vocal pitches.   
“What, you get a gun shoved in your face and Connor jumps off of the roof, and suddenly your day is ruined? Come on…”  
“Are you fucking joking with me right now? Seriously?” You had jumped off of the side of Connor’s bed and were standing, your body shaking from head to toe at the sudden shift in your emotions.  
“Well I was fuckin’ tryin’…”  
“This was your fucking fault! Yours and his!” You pointed down at the unconscious Connor who still lay there, completely undisturbed by your ranting.   
“What? How the fuck do you figure?” Murph was standing now as well, the chair flying backwards as he pushed off from it.   
“I told you two to fucking leave it alone! I told you to having your little macho bar fight and then leave them in the ally, but no, not the MacManus brothers, nope. You two had to completely fuck them up and humiliate them. You almost got us killed!”   
“Don’t you fucking blame us for some fuckin’ Russian stickin’ a gun in yer face! This life, this neighborhood, us, you chose this! Nobody fuckin’ made ya stay!”   
You felt your next breath stop dead in your chest and you stared at him, not sure if you had actually heard the words that had just left his mouth. The silence was near deadly as you felt your anger boil over.   
“You’re right. Nobody made me. Nobody even asked me.”   
You gave one last glance at Connor in his deep slumber before grabbing the metal doorknob in your palm and yanking the door open. You could hear your own bare feet slapping against the tile as you hugged the flimsy robe around your frame, heading for the nearest exit door.   
How could he say that to you? How could he look at you as if you practically had begged to stay in his shit apartment for the rest of your life?   
The automatic sliding doors were within eyesight just when you felt a strong hand grip tightly on your right forearm.   
Murphy swung you around violently, his eyes a light with the fuel of your exit.   
“What the fuck are ya doin’?”   
“What does it look like? I’m leaving.”   
“What the fuck for?”   
“Did you honestly think that you were so fucking perfect that I would just let you almost get me killed? That I would just follow you around forever? That I was some fucking lost and beaten puppy that you and your brother decided to bring home one day?”   
“I never fuckin’ claimed to be anythin’, and I sure as shit never claimed to be perfect! You knew exactly what we were, who we were. We never lied or hid anythin’ from you. All of this was your choice! I don’ know why I’m surprised though; guess it was only a matter of time before the spoiled little girl got sick of the workin’ class life style, aye?”   
The slap that you painted across Murphy’s face echoed down the sterile hallway, attracting the unwanted attention of several medical staff, as well as a waiting room full of patients.   
Both of you heaving, you slowly realized just how loud your argument had actually been. You noticed two nurses who had stopped jabbering at their medical station to watch you and Murphy scream and slap; both of you still near naked in your thin bathrobes.   
“Fuck. Come ‘ere.”   
Murphy gripped your wrist and began to lead you sternly around the corner of the hallway.   
“Good idea, Murph. This definitely doesn’t look shady after I just slapped you. You’re dragging me off where no one can witness your retaliation?”   
“Well, Darlin’, you’re the one that decided to slap me.”  
“They’re going to call security on us, you know that…”  
“You honestly think I would fuckin’ hit ya?”   
The two of you had made it to the end of the hall and were making another left.   
“…I hit you…”  
“Yeah, I noticed.”   
Murphy’s eyes darted across the hall and he dodged a nurse in purple scrubs to pull you along and fling open a medical supply closet door.   
“Come on.”  
Your eyes looked inside the closet and then down both sides of the brightly lit hall.  
“No.”  
“Get your skinny fuckin’ ass in the damn closet.”  
“Fuck you, Murph.”  
“God dammit…” Quickly loosing his patients, Murphy pulled you with a quick jerking motion and slammed the door shut behind you.  
“Why the hell are we in here?” You could feel the judgment that was planted firmly on your face as you stared at Murphy in absolute annoyance.   
“Because thanks to you and your little dramatic scene, security is gonna want to separate and question us. Make sure I don’t fuckin’ beat ya or some shit.”  
“So we’re hiding in a closet instead of me leaving because…?”  
“Because we’re not fuckin’ done here, Rylee!”   
“What part are we not done with? The part where you made me feel like I was some lost orphan who followed you around, begging for your attention? Or the part where you just called me a ‘spoiled little girl?’” You practically spat your words at Murphy who chewed his lip before answering.  
“How could you?”  
You had been looking at your bare feet when Murphy finally spoke.   
“How could I what, Murph?” You looked up into Murphy’s face that seemed to be stuck in a state of confusion.   
“How could ya ever think that I was okay with that? With what fuckin’ happened?”  
“You were joking around! What was I supposed to think, Murphy!?”   
“How could ya not know that that was the most scared I have ever been in my god damn life, Rylee?”   
“You didn’t act scared!”  
“I didn’t know what to fuckin’ say! What am I supposed to say? That a bar fight almost got me and my brother killed? That once they shot me in the head, I had no fuckin’ control over what those sick fucks would do to you? That my worst nightmare is loosing you and Connor and I, for a moment, I thought I would?”  
You felt tears rush to your eyes as you push Murphy’s chest with the palms of your open hands.   
“You’re supposed to say something! Say anything! I know that it wasn’t your fault! Not really… I know that Ivan was a violent bastard; and I know that if you and Con had known what would happen, you never would have taken it so far. I know! But knowing doesn’t take the fear away Murph! I need you to say something to me. I need you to make this okay because that’s your job; it may not be fair, but that is what I need from you.”  
A tear had run down the length of your porcelain skin, and was about to drip off of your chin, falling to the floor; when Murphy grabbed your face ravenously. His tongue pushed through your wind-chapped lips and fought against yours for dominance, just as you felt your body being shoved backwards against a medical shelving unit.   
Murphy’s hands traveled quickly inside of your ill fitted robe, exposing your naked body, and dropping the thin material to the floor. Within seconds you felt your feet leave the cold tile as Murphy gripped your ass and lifted you upwards; throwing your legs around his waist; his boxers stressed over an already rigid erection that lay beneath them.   
You hear yourself gasp in surprise as random pill bottles fall from the shaken shelves, noisily hitting the floor below. You tighten your grip on Murphy’s waist by hooking your ankles and allow your hands to find his messy locks and grab hold.   
Murphy’s mouth abandons yours to travel down the length of your neck, stopping to lap at your collarbone; all while his course finger tips begin the labor of rubbing your left nipple nearly raw.   
Jutting your hips forward, you groan at the friction of Murphy’s stiff cock against your exposed heat. Biting the bottom of your lip fiercely, you feel Murphy’s hand abandon your chest and move to push down the thin layer of cotton that is keeping the two of you apart.   
Murphy’s name gets caught in your throat, choking you as you cry out from the blunt force penetration that occurs between your thighs. Your fingers grasp desperately at Murph’s shoulder blades; attempting to hold on as your core suffered one blatant assault after another. Teeth sunk into the curve of your neck and your hair became tangled in a fist that was slammed down onto a shelf for support.   
Your breathing quickly fell in sync with the quick, labored repetition of Murphy’s; the two of you gasping in unison; grunting each other’s names with an animalistic vigor.   
The fear of this morning washed over you and you clenched your eyes shut; holding Murphy’s body as close to you as you cold possibly get it; taking in his smell, his breathing; clinging to him and finding yourself more grateful than you had ever been in your life.   
“I…Love…You.”  
Murphy’s words came between guttural moans and panicked pants for air; none of which stopped you from grabbing his jaw and forcing him upward to meet you for a mess of wet kisses and dances of tongues.   
“I love…you.” Your lips parted ways for the smallest of moments and Murphy’s voice met your ears once more.  
“I know baby, I know.”  
“Don’t…leave. Never…leave.” Murphy choked on his words as you felt his pace quicken between your spread legs.  
“God, Murphy. Harder.”   
Grabbing hold of a high shelf and knocking even more miscellaneous pill bottles to the ground, Murph began to impale you with a rhythm that tied torturous knots deep within you.  
Clenching your channel, you rolled your hips ferociously with every motion that Murph had to offer; forcing him to let loose an unanticipated ‘fuck!’  
Murphy drops your weight two or three inches downward before his next thrust, readjusting you just enough that upon his entrance you feel his engorged head make contact with your thick bundle of nerves that sets your belly on fire.   
“Fuck! Murph, just like that… don’t stop baby.”   
You could feel the bruises from the shelving unit on your back and ass already forming as Murphy continued to shamelessly slam you into it, no longer giving even a fleeting thought as to weather or not the two of you might be heard from outside passers by.   
“Tell me you’re mine… Tell me you’ll never leave me.” Murphy’s jaw lay open and slacked, his words a threatened command under climactic desperation.   
You lift your chin to meet his gaze; your eyes locking onto Murphy’s bright blue ones. You can hardly remember your own name while he continues to tease and fuck your inner pressure point, but you bring your lips together to form words.   
“I’m yours, Murph. I will always be yours. I’m not going anywhere…I can’t… I can’t be without you.” Your voice is no more than a whine as you begin to come unwound.   
“Fuck, Murph! I’m so fucking close.”   
You toss your head backward in euphoria, sending more medical paraphernalia plummeting downward. You know what prolonged contact with your g spot produces and mere seconds later you feel a wave gush from between your thighs; making you nearly choke as Murphy continues to ride you until he’s had his fill.   
“God damn, Ry.” Murphy buries his face deep into the crook of your neck as he slides himself in and out of your slick entrance.   
“Come for me, baby. Ride me, mark me as your own.”   
Murphy bit down hard, breaking the delicate skin on top of your shoulder.  
“This is all yours, I’m yours. Fuck me, Murph,” you whisper in a husked tone, not letting the pain have an impact on you.   
“Fuck!”   
You continue to roll your hips against his, milking his spent cock for all it’s worth; savoring the look of relief written all over his pale face.   
The two of you share passionate kisses before bending down to pick up discarded robes.   
“We should go check on Con…” Murphy’s voice trailed off as he gripped the closet doorknob about to exit, before you took hold of his other hand.   
“Promise me that this is it? Promise me that we are it. I need to hear you say that you and I, that we, are it.” You knew your eyes were telling but you didn’t care. You needed to hear Murphy’s reassurance that none of this was fleeting. You needed to hear him tell you that what you felt, that what you went to bed each night dreaming about, was real.   
“What’s ‘it’?”   
You didn’t answer but instead stared into his crystal blue eyes that contrasted so harshly with his near black head of hair.   
Murphy took a backward step and turned around to face you again.  
“I have only ever loved three people in my life, Ry; God, Connor, and you. The day that I wake up and don’t love any of those people anymore, will be a very fuckin’ cold day in hell.”   
A single tear rushed down your cheek and you quickly went to brush it away, in hopes of Murphy not noticing.  
“We are ‘it,’ love. You’re ‘it.’” Murphy’s thumb found the place where your tear had fallen and gently began to rub the damp streak on your cheek. “I know that right now our lives are crazy, and I can’t promise you that I won’t get into bar fights, and I can’t promise you that there won’t be days that you regret meeting Con in McGinty’s that night; but I can promise you that I’ll love you. I always will.”  
“I’ll never regret that, Murph. That’s not even an option.” You let out a light laugh as you fought back another wave of trickled tears that wanted to fall down your cheeks.   
“We’re gonna be old one day, love. You an’ me. We’re gonna be old, an’ married, and have a empty house that used to hold all of our babies before they went and grew up on us, and it’ll be good, okay? Is that the ‘it’ you were talkin’ ‘bout?”   
You released a full laugh this time, unable to stop the sound from erupting from your gut. “Yes, that’s the ‘it’ I was talking about.” 

You and Murphy took the long, round about way of traveling back to Connor’s room, trying your best to avoid catching the eye of any worried medical staff who may have witnessed your spat earlier.   
You felt your chest fill with a gust of relief as you pushed his door open and saw the dirty blonde MacManus brother sitting straight up in bed, looking around the room.  
“Con!” You practically tripped over your own feet as you rushed to his side, gripping his hand and planting scattered kisses across his boney jaw.   
“Where the fuck have you two been? What the hell happened? I just called Doc, he’s on his way now, but…”  
“How are you feelin’, Con?” Murph pulled his chair back up against the bed, interrupting Connor mid sentence.   
“I feel like I fuckin’ jumped off of a roof, Murph.”


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four:

 

The moon blazed through the skylight, lighting up the entire loft as you hugged the blankets tightly around your thin frame. You had long ago lost count of how many times you had tossed and turned, back and fourth across the two twin mattresses crudely pushed together on the cement floor. This was the first time in nearly a year that that you had not fallen asleep squished between two Irishmen and you had never before realized the level of security two sweaty backs smothering you all night brought.   
The apartment was cold without Murphy snoring lightly next to you; his ankles interlocked with yours at the foot of the mattresses; and you suddenly found yourself almost desperate to hear Connor pop his knuckles loudly in his sleep while he murmured curse words in Latin between dreams.   
You couldn’t help but wonder what the boys were doing now… you of course figured that they were probably asleep. They were together, and they knew that you were at home, safe, with Rocco slumped over and asleep at the card table, your protector and knight in shinning armor. However, you couldn’t help but selfishly hope that the two of them were tossing and turning, struggling to hit REM sleep without your body sandwiched between theirs.   
Rocco let out a particularly loud grunt from the dark corner of the room before quickly returning to his rhythmic train-like snoring. You watched as he readjusted his head from one arm to the other before falling back asleep. Offering to push the twin beds apart so he had a place to lie down had done you little good. Rocco had insisted on keeping a ‘sharp look out’ before he quietly fell victim to slumber hours ago.   
Hours that seemed like days had passed since you had accompanied Rocco down to the Boston PD precinct to see your boys behind bars. They had used their one phone call to request their clothes and rosaries, which the two of you had delivered.   
A smile crept across your face in the dark as you played your fleeting moments with Murphy and Connor over and over again as you clenched your eyes tightly shut, trying to force rest that wouldn’t come.   
******

“Murph!” Your heart had leapt full force into your chest as you darted down the echoed hall of the jail, catching Rocco saying hello to the other inmates as he followed you in tow.   
“Baby…” Murphy leaned forward to kiss you through the ironclad bars; still scantily clad in his boxers, boots, and blood stained bathrobe; while you waited anxiously for the guard to open up the sliding cell door.   
“What is going on? Are they charging you?” Your words were a whisper as you looked over at Connor who was wrapping his own robe around his chest while standing up from his place on the cot in the corner.   
“Rocco!” Murphy yellowed loudly over your shoulder as he saw his friend catch up to you from around the corner.   
Something about seeing the boys in a jail cell was enough to make your stomach project anything within it out and onto the floor below. You knew this had been a reckless idea. 

*****  
After the ER had finally released Connor when his CT scan showed no irregularities, the three of you had accompanied Doc back to the bar, where the boys partook of several shots while debating their upcoming decision.  
“We need to go to the fuckin’ police, Con. They’re makin’ us out to be murders and the shit was self defense.” Murphy blew smoke out of his mouth and over his shoulder as he spoke.  
“You have got to be fucking kidding me, Murphy! We are not turning ourselves in. They’ll throw us all in prison for life. It’s our word over two corpses.” Your voice was shrill and your eyes wide at the idea that going to the Boston PD was even a workable option.   
“WE’RE not doin’ anything, Darlin’.” Murphy shook his head and pointed a finger back and fourth between you and him. “Connor and I need to go, babe. You’re gonna stay with Roc. He’ll keep you safe until we’ve sorted all this shit out.”   
“Wait, what? Safe from what?”   
Connor took a long drag from his smoke while absent-mindedly running his fingers over his bandaged wrists before answering; “You can’t be alone right now, what if those assholes have friends, eh? They come lookin’ for whoever did ‘em in? Nah, you can’t be alone, Ry.”   
“Great, we can agree on that, I shouldn’t be alone, so why don’t you two stay with me!”  
Connor looked at you with knowing hazels before leaning forward to place a kiss on the top of your forehead. “Murph’s right, Ry, We’ve got to do this.”  
“Connor, you don’t… We need to go, okay? We can leave.”   
Connor could read the desperation in your voice and for a moment looked as if he was going to give into your plea before Murphy cleared his voice from the adjacent barstool.   
“Baby, if we go, and they find us, we’ll look guilty and they’ll never believe that we’re innocent. None of us will ever see each other again.” Murphy’s words were soft and you knew he was trying his hardest to be delicate, but your fear of loosing the only true family you had ever known was out weighing a calm tone.   
“Murph, what if they don’t buy it, and we never see each other again anyway? Huh? The two of you walk in there and then you never walk out?”   
“It’s what’s right, Ry. Don’t ya see that?”   
“No…I really don’t.”   
Unwilling to continue to argue a loosing battle, you picked your cigarettes off of the worn bar and walked through the heavy front door, out into the street. Your back made contact with the brick wall as you slid your way down to the sidewalk to sit before lighting up.   
Clenching your eyes shut as you breathed in your first drag, you were yet to exhale before you heard the oak door being pushed outward as someone exited. Your chin pointed up at the sky, you still held your eyes closed as you heard someone slide down next to you on the ground, their shoulder resting gently next to your own.   
You could feel tears welling up within your eyes as you clenched them tighter still, there was no need for you to open them and let the crying escape; you already knew that it was Connor sitting next to you.   
“Con…” Your voice cracked as you felt the tears finally give way beneath your eyelids, and you decided to open them and look him in the eye. “How did we get here? Less than 24 hours and our lives are fucked.”   
You felt Connor’s fingers slowly take the burning ember from between your fingers as he put it between his lips, speaking through a corner of his mouth; “We’re not fucked, Darlin’. We’re here, which is more than those Russian pieces of shit can say.”  
Connor took a long drag and moved his lips to yours, opening his mouth and pushing the white smoke into your mouth, sharing the warmth.   
“This is what needs to happen for us to put this shit behind us, babe. It just is.”  
“What if you go to prison?”  
“Won’t happen.” Connor took another drag before speaking in a matter of fact tone.  
“Really? And how are you so fucking sure?” You yourself had adopted a mocking tone as you held out your hand, silently asking for Connor to return your cigarette to you.  
“Murph.”  
You looked blankly at him for a moment before wiping your tears away from your cheeks with the sleeve of your filthy bathrobe. “Murph?”  
“They’ll take one look at that boy and let us walk out…Murphy MacManus is way too pretty for prison.” 

******  
The uniform-clad deputy gave Connor and Murphy a half-cocked smile and a small nod before turning his back at the cell door, allowing you and Rocco passage inside while he waited by the cell door.   
Rocco quickly dawned the boys with holey jeans, faded t-shirts, their pea coats, and of course, their rosaries that had been hanging on the loft’s wall.   
“It’s so good to see you guys, you doin’ time? Or just hangin’ out?”  
“Roc, I don’t think they’d be lettin’ us receive guests and gifts if we were bein’ charged, yeah?” Connor looked at you in Murphy’s embrace from the corner of his eye as he spoke to Rocco.  
“Baby, what did they say?” You asked, looking deeply into Murphy’s blue eyes, taking full notice of his coy smirk.  
“Ry, we’re all good. This, uh, Agent…?” Murphy turned to look for Connor’s aid in his slipping memory.  
“Smecker.” Connor said over his shoulder as he jumped up and down into his jeans.  
“Yeah, Agent Smecker, he’s a good man, Rylee. He helped us out, knew we were tellin’ the truth and all. We’re only stayin’ here the night to avoid the press. Last thing we fuckin’ need is our faces in the paper.” Murphy pulled on a grey cotton t-shirt that Rocco offered him as he spoke, completely unaware of the relief washing over your face.   
“Ma’am I need you to wrap it up, even though their here voluntarily, there isn’t supposed to really be visitors back here.” The deputy at the door turned around to speak to you and you gave him a small nod in return.   
“You better go, Darlin’… Hey, uh, Roc?”  
“Yeah, man?”   
Rocco had come up behind Murph, walking towards the cell door.   
“You mind stayin’ at our place tonight, keepin’ my girl company?”   
“Of course, Murph. Not a problem, brother.”   
Murphy gave Rocco a strong hug after Connor released him from his embrace, before turning back to you one last time.   
“I’ll be home in the morning, aye? Think you can survive?”  
“It will be difficult, but I have faith that I’ll pull through.” You answered in a mocking tone.  
“Oh you hear that, Con? Our girl has gone and found herself some faith.”  
Your lips met Murphy’s for a moment that was over far too quickly before you buried your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply and squeezing tightly against his ribs.   
“No funny business with Roc, either, okay? Bastard can’t keep a secret to save his life. I’ll know as soon as I walk in the door.”   
The laugh catches in your throat as you slowly pull away from Murph.  
“I’ll try desperately to contain myself.”   
“Ma’am?” The deputy again addressed you as Rocco made his way into the hallway.   
Giving the man a small wave, you looked over Murph’s shoulder to the dirty blonde man standing silently, just feet away.  
Your eyes found his hazel gaze and you found yourself giving him a nervous smile before looking away again.   
“Ry?”  
“Yeah?” You immediately looked back once your name flies from his mouth.  
Connor took three steps forward and cupped the back of your head with the palm of his left hand, pulling you forward and into him just enough so that he could plant a strong kiss on head.   
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”  
“Of course you will.”  
“Good.”

***  
You watched the sun rise across the Boston sky, coffee in one hand and a smoke in the other. The morning was brisk and you hugged yourself tightly whenever the wind whipped up and over the rooftop on which you sat.  
It had been hours since you gave up on sleep and now you found yourself watching the street action below, waiting for your boys to come home like some anxious and attention deprived pet.   
Even though the boys had somehow managed to be cleared on the murder charges, and Connor had miraculously jumped from a roof with nothing more but some nasty bruises, you still had this unpleasant feeling deep within your gut. You felt like today was the first day of the rest of it.  
Your life was never going to be the way that it had been before, and the future suddenly left you with a bitter taste in your mouth.   
“Shit! Rylee? Rylee?! Where the fuck are you?” Rocco’s panic stricken voice came up through the open staircase and you quickly put out your smoke before half running over to opening.  
“Roc? It’s okay. I’m here.”   
You descended the metal stairs into the loft below to find Rocco standing in the middle of the cement floor, his hands in his long, untamed locks, looking horrified.   
“You just scared the fuckin’ shit outta me!”   
“I’m sorry-“ You started.  
“I thought you were gone! I woke up and this place was empty!”  
“I know, but, Roc…”  
“What the fuck was I gonna tell them? They come back and you’re gone.”  
“Rocco! I’m fine. I was just on the roof having some coffee and a smoke, watching the sun come up…waiting for the boys to come home…”  
“Awe, shit… Ry, they’ll be back soon, I’m sure of it. You know those cops only held them because they wanted to avoid those fuckin’ reporters and all their damn pushy questions.” Rocco had calmed down slightly and walked back over to the card table in the corner, taking a seat.  
“Thanks, Roc. I know… I just want them home is all. Coffee?” You wandered lazily over to the counter where half a pot of dark brown liquid still sat in a cracked pot.  
“Sure.” Rocco mumbled through a cigarette he was lighting in the corner.   
Just as you had fished another mug out from the solitary cupboard that your kitchen held, the metal sliding door to the apartment was pushed open behind you, and the mug lay on the worn counter, completely discarded and forgotten.   
Connor entered the room, his face flushed and his eyes quickly scanning the room looking for you. Your eyes made contact, and they stayed that way, even when Connor spoke to Rocco.   
“Roc? Murph’s downstairs in a cab… He’s gonna run over to McGinty’s, pick up the shit we took off of the Russian’s from Doc… Why don’t you go down and ride with him.”  
You watched as Rocco’s eyes traveled from Connor and then to you, a small smile taking refuge across his cheeks.   
“Yeah… ‘Course. We’ll be back in a while.”   
Connor’s deep hazel eyes were locked on you, although he remained at the entrance of the apartment, near the door, he never so much as glanced at Rocco as he ambled past, pulling the heavy door shut behind him.   
The tension in the room was clouding your mind and your judgment, something was different, something was different about him, maybe even about you, however you had no intention of asking him what the difference might be; not while he was looking at you like that.   
“Con…”  
You couldn’t even get his entire name out of your mouth before Connor rushed you, making his way across the echoed floor faster than you had ever seen him move, shoving you against the counter top, his mouth instantly dominating yours.   
Lifting you up, Connor sat you on top of the cracked tile counter, ripping your ill fitted sweater from your body, grunting vigorously when he saw your bare chest beneath the cotton sheath.   
You fought against the unbelievable distraction of Connor sucking madly at your hardened buds; trying quickly to rip his faded black tee from his broad and sun kissed shoulders.   
Your fingers grip tightly to his heated skin, lapping at the salty taste of Connor’s neck, before moving up to bite and tongue his overly sensitive ear lobe.   
Releasing a sound that let you in on how much he loved his ear in your mouth; Connor abandoned your bit at the nipple on your left breast, causing you to suddenly jut your hips forward in a reflex reaction.   
Taking this movement as an open invitation, you feel Connor’s thick fingers push aside his own boxers that you were wearing, searching for your already aching heat. Within milliseconds, Connor was massaging tight circles around your thick nerve bundle, sending goose bumps across your pale skin as you curse his name before wrapping your tongue around his.   
Connor’s jaw rocked against your own, allowing you to taste the three cigarettes he had already had this morning, mixed with the black Boston PD coffee you were sure he had consumed on his way out of the precinct door.   
Still lost in a midst of Connor’s powerful mouth, you hardly noticed when he hoisted you up and off of the counter top, carrying you with your legs wrapped around him across the floor. Your back made soft contact with the old mattresses in the center of the room just as you hear Connor kicking off his heavy boots.   
“Connor…Con…” Your voice hoarsely moaned his name with each breath that he allowed you to have. “I was so scared…”  
“I know, baby…I know. I’m here now. It’s just you, and me and I’m here. I have you, and no one alive is ever taking you from me.”   
A rush of emotion devoured the two of you as you fought against your remaining clothing, needing desperately to be as physically close to one another as was possible.   
There was no teasing, no grand anticipation before you found Connor pushing himself into you; just a feeling of unbelievable release and gratitude.   
“Oh god… Connor!” You arched your back beneath Connor’s heavy torso as he went to work on planting damp kisses onto your neck.   
Connor bucked his hips forward and filled you to completion, stretching you in all the right ways as you gasped loudly, trying to adjust.   
His mouth found yours once more as he adopted a slow, delicious pace of rolling his tongue back and fourth over yours, letting you completely savor his taste. You could feel the slow pull deep within your core as Connor eased his way out of your sex, only to rush back in again, teasing you, and egging you on to roll your hips.   
Your fingers dug deeply into the tanned Irishman’s skin as his swollen head made contact with your deepest sexual pressure zone.   
“God I needed you, I needed this…” Connor’s cracked voice was muffled against the skin of your chest as you watched him begin to tongue and nip at your heaving breasts.   
“I love you, Connor.” Your hand pulled at his dirty blonde hair as he pushed himself past your teased entrance once more, his thick erection twitching dangerously at your words.  
You were well aware of what Connor needed, and what you needed of him. For just a few moments, only the smallest amount of time, the two of you were alone, and clung to each other as if your lives depended on it.   
“Con, faster…” You moaned at his torturously slow pace, jutting your hips forward, attempting to meet him half way.   
“Shhh…” Connor’s voice purred lustfully into your ear as his tongue traced the inner lobe. “It’s coming, baby, I promise. Stay with me.”   
His words sending a shockwave down your spine, your mouth searched for his, once again resuming the passionate sucking and rolling of tongues, while your legs gripped Connor’s firm ass, your ankles locking.   
With each teased thrust, Connor’s swollen member applied pressure to your throbbed nerves deep within your core, quickly driving you near insanity. Muscles in your stomach twisted and contoured as you fought against the overwhelming desire to scream for Connor to fuck you.   
Instead, you ran your nails down the length of his back, gasping for air that you never seemed to be able to catch enough of. Your moans were low and long and you found yourself emitting small whining noises every time Connor pushed against your g spot.   
“Connor… please…I feel like I’m going to explode…” You spoke against his mouth and felt as his lips turned into a small smile.   
“Touch yourself.”  
Connor lifted himself off of you just enough that it allowed your arm to fly down between your legs, leaving it pressed between where your and Connor’s bodies were connected.   
The anticipation was too much and you let your fingers quickly massage generous circles around and around the small pearl between your lips, quickening your pace and not worrying in the least of rubbing yourself raw.   
“Oh, god…yes! Connor!”   
You arched your back beneath him and clench your eyes tightly.  
“Hey, stay with me, baby. I want you with me, okay?”   
You opened your eyes only to be met with the intoxicating hazel color of Connor’s staring back at you, his brow coated in a thin glisten of sweat.   
“I’m here with you, Con… I always am.”   
Connor looked you up and down once before burying himself into your neck, preparing himself for the climax that he craved just as furiously as you did.   
“Harder, Con… Let go. I can’t hold on, and I need you to come with me.”   
Giving in and obliging your request, Connor let out a gutted moan before bucking his hips against yours, pumping himself in and out of your drenched sex fast enough to make you forget your own name.   
“Yes! That’s it, baby! Come with me! God, I’m so close, Connor.”   
“I’m… I’m coming, Ry…I’m coming.”   
“Jesus, me too, baby…Oh, god!”   
Connor pumped faster and you bit your bottom lip, trying to ready yourself for the euphoria that was making it’s way to eruption between your thighs.   
Your and Connor’s eyes met, his thick arms holding himself above you as his bottom half fucked you into oblivion. You watched, as his jaw lay slack, his breathing temporarily halted, and his entire body pulsated above you. You couldn’t form words or sounds but instead clung to Connor by gaze as you joined him in your aching and nearly silent climax.   
You felt yourself gush out between Connor’s legs just as white-hot ropes of seed entered your heat. His arms giving way, Connor fell on top of you, your chests instantly sticking together from sweat.   
Your fingers dug deep into the hair on the back of his scalp, twirling a lone curl that had grown there since his last haircut. The two of you gasped for air in unison as your bodies continued to twitch and ache, coming slowly down from the rocketed ending you had just experienced.   
Neither of you could move, but instead gave in to sleep deprivation and were awoken by the scraping sound of metal on metal when Murphy pulled the door of the loft open.   
Connor slowly rolled off of you and rubbed a sleepy eye with the palm of his hand as Murphy walked in, the bag of weapons and money in tow.   
“You two been busy, huh?” Murphy asked, placing the bag on the table. “Take it that you didn’t tell her then?”  
Pulling a sheet around you, you looked from Connor to Murphy. “Tell me what?”  
“Last night, in Jail, God spoke to us.”


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five:

“I’m sorry?”  
You leaned across the mattress and fished a minimally dirty pair of jeans off the floor before standing up naked and jumping into them.  
“Yeah, I thought Con would have told you.” Murph lit a smoke that he had hidden behind his ear and sat down at the card table, taking out the contents of the bag that held the dead Russians’ valuables.  
“No… Somehow Connor forgot to tell me about your religious epiphany.” You pulled an old t-shirt over your head before glancing at Connor who had his back to you as he dressed in the far corner.  
Murphy mouthed numbers as he counted the rolled cash he had just pulled from the bottom of the bag, making stacks on the table every time he hit one thousand.  
“So, are you going to share what god had to say?” You tried to hide the judging tone in your voice but you knew that you had failed horribly when Murphy stopped counting mid stack and looked up at you, smoke hanging limply from the corner of his mouth.  
“Listen, Ry, I know that you have a slight issue with God…”  
“No I don’t. I don’t. I have never said that. I am trying to understand. You just waltzed in here and casually said that you had a conversation with the man upstairs and you’re yet to tell me what was said.”  
“You can drop the sarcasm at any point.”  
Connor was zipping up his fly as he walked over to join his brother at the table, eyeing you out of his peripheral.  
“What are you ganging up on me now?” You let out a forced laugh before bouncing your gaze between the boys sitting before you.  
“Baby, last night, Murph and I woke up at the same time, from the same dream. We both knew what needed to be done.” Connor leaned forward on his knees as he spoke to you, attempting to put you at ease but falling short in his endeavors.  
“What needs to be done?” You knew how unsure your voice sounded but at this point you didn’t really care.  
“Rylee, those Russian mobster pieces of shit thought that they could just run Doc out of his own fucking bar! They thought they could murder us! Rape you! Do you know what stopped them?”  
You looked questioningly into Murphy’s deep baby blues, not knowing what answer he wanted or expected to come from your mouth.  
“As I recall, it was Connor jumping off of a roof, and you with a toilet tank lid…”  
Murphy inhaled deeply on his cigarette and let out a loose laugh. “Yeah, it was. It was us, and him.”  
“…And god…” You felt yourself nod slowly and you knew Connor was reading the disbelief written all over your face.  
“The lord intervened, and so did we. We chose to not be indifferent. Baby, we chose to put them down.”  
Murphy took your hand in his and you felt yourself being torn in two. You were unbelievably nauseas at the idea of Connor and Murphy actually thinking that they had spoken to god, but then, who was to say they hadn’t?  
You had always maintained a happy optimism in the name of religion; a belief in the possibility of a higher power; you just always found yourself struggling when dealing with anything too specific.  
Since day one you had been all too aware of the fact that the boys were devout Catholics and had been raised as such since birth. This fact had never bothered you, but it had never come up too heartily in conversation either. The three of you had lived in a happy medium where you had silently agreed to disagree, until now.  
“Murphy, baby…” You bit your bottom lip unaware of what to say next, worried of this situation blowing up into a battle that you knew you had no chance at all of winning. “God told you that he wanted you to kill the Russians? God told you that you needed to…’intervene’?”  
“Rylee, Darlin’, I know that this is hard for you. I know that you don’t understand the relationship that we have with God; but the fact that you have always tried, always been patient… that’s everything to me.”  
Murphy rubbed the top of your hand with the pad of his thumb as he spoke, looking at you while you silently contemplated every option of the next words that came out of your mouth.  
“Murphy?”  
“Yeah, Ry?”  
“If you think God spoke to you, then I’ll think that too. I’ll believe that, for you, but please tell me that you’re not going to continue to try and ‘intervene.’ I mean, when two Russian men break into our home and threaten to rape and kill us, fine, intervene away, but there is a big difference between that and going door to door, looking for people to ‘stop in the name of god.’” You used air quotations for the last part of your rant, and you know instantly that Connor and Murphy didn’t appreciate it.  
“So, what you’re actually saying is that you don’t believe us, but you are willing to humor us for the sake of a happy home life, and you expect us to not do anything further in the name of our calling?” Connor looked at you through squinted eyes as you groaned loudly, getting further and further frustrated by the second.  
“Connor, I feel like as an Agnostic, at best, I am being overly accepting of the fact that you two just came home claiming to have chatted with a deity of your choosing; but no, I am not going to say that I am okay with you murdering people in the name of God.”  
Murphy leaned back in his chair and silently continued to count the money that was remaining in his pile; Connor husked a mild groan before looking for his boots underneath the card table, both of them doing a thoroughly successful job of blowing you and your allegations off.  
“What are we going to do with all that money, anyway?” Your attempt at changing the subject was sadly half assed and short lived.  
“Trade it for guns.” Murphy’s answer was short and to the point, and quickly followed by him continuing where he left off on his counting.  
“What?”  
“We don’t have any guns, babe. I’m fairly certain we’ll be needin’ ‘em,” Connor retorted as he pulled one filthy boot after the other.  
“We live in this hovel and you are going to pay all that money for guns… for guns you need to commit murders…” You looked between the brothers, both of them avoiding eye contact.  
“Yeah. Pretty much.”  
“Jesus fucking Christ!” Your voice was much more shrill than you had expected it to be.  
“Lord’s fuckin’ name…” Murph murmured under his breath as he gathered up the separated piles. “We got ‘bout eleven grand here, plus the pagers, watches, and rings.”  
“Aye, that ought to get us somethin’ when we go down there…”  
“I’m not okay with this!” Your voice echoed off of the walls that surrounded you. You knew you were angry, however the vocal outburst even surprised you.  
Connor and Murphy both looked up at you from their places at the table, studying your face as you stood your ground before them. Murphy raised an eyebrow to you as Connor ran a palm through his more-dirty-than-clean hair.  
“Noted.” Murph, ever vigilant with his defiance, turned his gaze from you and continued to stack the Russian’s valuables.  
“You just don’t care?” You hated how childish that question had sounded coming out of your mouth, but you had never seen them this way before; so utterly unfazed by your feelings.  
“Darlin’, you think we would do this if we didn’ believe it was important?” Connor leaned forward and placed his weight on his knees, looking up at you and, unlike his twin brother, giving you the attention your feelings required.  
“I think this is fucking crazy, Connor! You survive an attempted murder and suddenly you’re fucking Batman? You’re going to rid Boston of all of it’s lowlifes” You looking into Connor’s gaze as you spoke, however you were unable to prevent your vision from peaking over to Murph, who still seemed completely uncaring of the words coming from your mouth.  
“Oh, no babe. We’re not Batman. We could never be Batman…” Connor rubbed the deep bruises on his wrists where the handcuffs had cut into him.  
“We’re far to fuckin’ poor to ever be Batman, Ry.” Murph’s crack made Connor attempt to cover a snorted laugh and you watched as the dark haired brother peaked up at you, looking at you with eyes of the clearest blue, and instantly winning you back over with a weak smile.  
“Murphy… How can you murder strangers because you think someone told you to?” Your voice was barely audible, as you looked at the floor while speaking, truly fearful of what his answer may be.  
“Because it was God who told me, baby, and you don’t not listen to god when you requests your action.” Murphy’s answer wasn’t cruel, it was calm and understanding, and you knew that he was trying to meet you in the middle of an issue that had divided the three of you since day one.  
“I’m sorry, but I can’t be a part of this…” You choked on your words long before they left your mouth and even after they had, you looked to the boys to see if they had actually come out.  
“Sorry… what?” Connor stood up and looked you in the eye.  
“I can’t, Connor. How could you expect me to? You think I’m going to kill people in the name of religion?”  
“We’re not askin’ ya to kill anybody! We’d never expect ya to take part in this, what we expected was for you to support us.” Connor was tiptoeing around a very delicate matter and you both stood face to face, neither of you daring to move.  
“I can’t.”  
Your eyes welled with tears; you turned around, not willing to look Murph in the eye for fear of you breaking down. Picking your purse up from the floor, your hand gripped tightly to the rod iron door handle, pulled hard, and heard the scraping sound of metal on metal as the door slid.  
The door, however, was little more than a quarter of the way open before you felt yourself being pinned against the cooled surface; your face pressed forward as a body forced itself against you.  
“This is all it takes for you to give up and go? This? I can’t fuckin’ breathe without you, and if you think I’ll just let you walk out, you’re fuckin’ mistaken’.” Murphy’s lurid and husked voice whispered deeply into you ear as you suddenly felt his hand run roughly across your stomach and delve deep within the waist of your denim jeans.  
You allowed yourself a sharp inhale of breath as Murphy’s digits traced over your pelvis and ran themselves down into your hot center.  
“Murph...” His name is nothing more than a desperate gasp stuck in your throat as you clench your eyes shut, unable to stop yourself from letting loose a guttural moan when he pinches your delicate pearl between his fingers.  
“Tell me to stop…” Murph’s steamed tongue traveled down the curve of your neck as he jutted his hips forward into your ass, forcing you to take note of his solid erection strained beneath his jeans. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”  
Murphy’s fingers began to work furious circles around your hidden bud, making your knees give way and forcing you to cling to the side of the door for support.  
“Fuck, Murph.” You bit your lip as a shock wave rolled slowly over you and you shamelessly bucked against his hand, attempting to gain even more delicious friction.  
“You want me to stop baby? You wanna leave?”  
As quickly as it had appeared, Murphy’s hand disappeared, causing you to whine and whimper at the cease-fire that had just gone up between your legs.  
You panted hungrily against the metal door as Murphy moved away, releasing you from his grip. Turning around slowly, you saw Connor standing just feet from Murphy, smoking a cigarette silently as he watched the show Murphy had just put on for him.  
You looked directly into the eyes of the only man you had ever loved. He stared at you, and you felt safe, you felt needed. You knew that for the first time in your life, you couldn’t just walk away without anyone caring. Murphy was a part of you now, and walking out that door would not erase him from your being.  
“I’m not askin’ ya to have faith in God, Ry… I’m askin’ ya to have faith in me.”  
Murphy’s words settled in your stomach heavier than anything you had ever heard. This man, these men; they were the only thing you had ever wanted. They were the only thing you had ever truly believed in. They were yours.  
You dropped your purse back onto the concrete below before quickly taking the two steps to where Murphy stood. Gripping his neck tightly, you pulled him in harshly for a conquering kiss that over took his mouth.  
Murphy hissed against your passion and pushed you back the two paces to the door; slamming you against the hard surface, ripping your pants down to your ankles before picking you up throwing your legs around his waist.  
Your hands gripped his shoulders tightly as felt the bite of his zipper against your inner thigh, letting you know Murph had quickly undone his pants. Your breath panted heavily as teeth nipped at your jugular, and hands cupped and gripped your ass painfully.  
Rolling your hips forward, you were not disappointed to feel Murphy’s thick head already awaiting your slicked entrance as Murphy groaned at the feeling of your heat.  
Connor blew smoke rings behind Murphy, watching your ever move, taking note of every delicious moan; pawing at his own growing bulge beneath his pants while his brother prepared to fuck you standing.  
Murphy rolled his hips forward, allowing his girth to spread you wide. Gripping your ass, he brought you to him, making the two of your bodies meet in the middle and making sure that each penetration was equally as deep as the last, leaving your stomach cramping as you tried to adjust to his size and speed.  
You did not attempt to muffle your cries as Murphy impaled you on his cock unforgivingly, taking out the rage of your attempted abandonment. You felt Murphy suck your ear lobe, grazing it with his teeth as he huffed into your ear under the strain of his physical exertion.  
Unable to contain himself any longer, you watched as Connor threw his smoke on the ground, stepping on it with his boot before coming to you. Gripping your face strongly with his hand, Connor pulled your jaw to him, intruding your mouth with his tongue. The cries of Murphy fucking you did not stop, but were muffled by Connor wrapping his fluid muscle around yours.  
Tasting Connor while Murphy was buried in your core to the hilt was your own personal nirvana. This moment in time was the exact place that you forever wanted to be. Your boys taking you over, marking you as their own, loving and fucking you until you couldn’t see straight.  
Never removing his tongue from your mouth, Connor’s fingers traveled between you and Murphy, going underneath your shirt and up towards your breasts. Two digits began twisting your nipple slowly, making you practically scream against Connor’s mouth.  
Murphy continued to slide you up and down his erection, leaving bright red finger marks where he clung to your pale behind in desperation. Still clinging to Murphy with one arm, you throw the other around Connor’s neck, bringing you closer to him so you could be sure to bite his lip when you came.  
The repeated noise of you being slammed over and over into the metal door sounded like a low, warning, drum roll, while a white-hot knot tied and untied itself deep in your gut.  
“Jesus, I’m going to fucking come, Murph!”  
Murphy growled ferociously against your neck but was unable to form words, as his pace became frighteningly vigorous. Connor, however, kneaded your breast beneath your shirt, thumbing your nipple, while leaning into your ear to whisper husked obscenities to you.  
“My baby brother gonna make you come, Ry? You like his cock fucking ya? Aye?”  
“God, Murph, don’t stop!” Your voice was frantic as you felt yourself peak, preparing to fall over the edge of euphoria.  
“Let me hear you scream his name, baby. Murph’ll fuck ya ‘til you beg him to stop.”  
Your breathing stopped and you clenched your eyes tightly shut, suddenly numb to all other senses beyond your climax. You could feel the endorphins wash over your body and you knew that you were higher than any drug could ever make you.  
You had not recovered from your rolling euphoria before Murphy suddenly dropped your weight down onto the hard floor below.  
“Get on your hands and knees.” Murphy’s voice was thick with lust and you knew better than to do anything but what he instructed.  
You didn’t even need to turn around to know what was going to happen next. The all too familiar sound of Connor flinging aside his belt buckle hit your ears while Murphy dropped down to his knees.  
A clammy palm pushed aside your hair as Murphy positioned himself at your mouth.  
“You wanna know what you taste like, baby?” Murphy’s lurid inquiry was his way of asking you for permission to choke you on his shaft, and you were already too far-gone to ever say no.  
A small nod was all it took and Murphy thrust his hips forward, groaning loudly towards the ceiling as you wrapped your tongue around him.  
“There’s my girl…”  
You gagged shamelessly on Murphy’s leaking head, allowing the vibrations of your vocal cords to tease him, just as you felt familiar hands grip your hips tightly.  
Connor positioned himself quickly at your soaked entryway before diving in with no further hesitation.  
“Oh, fuck…” Connor did not seem to mind in the least about not having the first go, but instead seemed all too grateful for your damp and still pulsating channel.  
Both brothers held you, by hips and by chin, while they guided themselves into you, fucking you from front to back in perfect unison.  
You groaned furiously against Murphy’s cock while Connor bucked himself into you, laying a harsh slap across your already well-marked ass.  
“That’s right, Con… make her scream.”  
Murphy twisted your long hair around his fist, gripping and controlling your head while he fucked your throat, spilling small spurts of salty nectar across your tongue.  
A second ‘swat’ sounded off of the concrete walls of the loft as your entire body trembled from the pleasing pain that was Connor’s spanking.  
Your watering eyes looked up at Murphy who was watching you take him deeper with each thrust, watching as he bit his bottom lip in sexual desperation.  
You suctioned your mouth deeply around Murphy’s fluid motions, sucking him raw against the friction of his thrusts, quickly forcing him to let loose. Murphy spilled his hot, white ropes down your throat in an earth quaking orgasm that left him shaking in full body convulsions.  
“Jesus fucking Christ, Rylee… Holy shit…”  
Murphy fell backwards onto the floor, palming his overly sensitive member while watching Connor continue to ride you.  
“You took care of him, ya gonna take care o’ me?” Connor’s voice sent a rolling sensual wave through your spine as you turned around, watching the concentration on his brow as he leaned his weight with one knee on the floor, the other up with his foot steadying himself.  
“Harder, Con! I know you can fuck better than this… stop teasing me and make me forget my own name.”  
Connor looked up at you and your eyes met, a small smirk appearing on his sweat-drenched face.  
A callused hand gripped onto your shoulder, allowing Connor to completely control his leverage against you; while he began throwing himself into your heat, making you cry his name out from your already hoarse throat.  
“That’s it baby, fuck me, Connor! Come for me, Daddy!”  
“Shit!” Connor groaned through his rasped, panted breath.  
Just when Connor’s bucking could not possible achieve a higher velocity, you felt his hands grip tightly against your throat, cutting off your air and making you see popping white lights against your instantly blurred vision.  
Slamming yourself backwards to meet every thrust Connor could muster, a second, slick climax erupted by surprise from deep within you, releasing a sudden and hearty gush of liquid that coated both your and Connor’s thighs.  
“Fuck! Yes! Rylee!”  
Connor went silent as he came hard, coating your walls with his thick orgasm, before choking to regain oxygen to his deprived lungs.  
The two of you collapsed to the cold floor together, letting out husked, small laughs as you both turned to eye Murphy, who had already headed to your group bed.  
“You two finished then? I don’t know about you, but I could use a fuckin’ nap… I personally didn’t sleep worth a shit last night.”  
Crawling on your hands and knees, you made your journey to Murphy’s outstretched arms, kissing him deeply when you reached him. Feeling Connor’s weight sink the mattress beside you, you let loose a sigh of deep and utter relief.  
Connor took his place to spoon you, tracing small circles across the skin of your bare hip; while you huddled yourself deep into Murphy’s chest, falling asleep to the rhythmic sound of his resting heart rate.  
Deeply sleep deprived from the previous evening’s tossing and turning; you didn’t hear the boys when they both awoke and quietly dressed. You didn’t hear them close the heavy metal door behind them as they left; and when you finally did wake up to an empty loft, you would have no idea that at that same moment; both Connor and Murphy would be holding a gun to the back of a man’s head.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six:

The sun was setting slowly when your eyes finally fluttered open, and the realization that the boys were missing was not a shock to you at first. It was a safe assumption that they had taken off to the bar, or were perhaps picking up an extra shift at the meat packing plant.  
Checking the time you quickly ran a brush through your mess of untamed, dark hair and pulled on tight jeans that now sported a worn hole in the right knee; readying yourself for your bartending shift at McGinty’s that you were just shy of sleeping through.  
Wrapping up in your coat as you neared the door, your eyes caught sight of the empty card table in the far corner of the loft. The missing bag of weapons and money that the boys had rolled off of the dead Russians was something that did not go unnoticed. Wherever the twins had taken off too, they had brought the bag with them, which suddenly left a bitter taste in your mouth and a lump in your throat.

The stale smell of smoke met your nostrils as you pushed past the heavy oak door and into the semi crowded bar. Doc gave you a warm smile and a nod as you hung your black coat on the hook just inside the door.  
Your eyes quickly scanned the old tavern in search of Connor and Murphy, but were not surprised to see their faces absent from the crowd.  
“Somethin’ on yer mind, Darlin’?” Doc’s old voice spoke kindly to you as you walked behind him to fill a drink order that Vick Gilligan had already barked at you from across the room.  
“Oh, it’s nothin’. Have you seen the boys today though? I slept in and haven’t heard from them.”  
“Nah, sweetheart. I haven’ seen ‘em at all today. No Roc either, and that drunk Italian’s always in my fuckin’ bar.”  
You gave a small chuckle before tossing a draft rather roughly in Vick’s direction where he stood waiting.  
“Yeah, I know he is Doc.”  
“I’m sure they’ll be in, dear. Probably just picked up work, ya know? I wouldn’t give it ‘nother thought.”  
“I’m sure too, thanks, Doc.”  
You continued to work through the evening; exchanging banter back and fourth with the regulars, talking politics with the local conspiracy enthusiast, and turning down drunk Eddie Dwyer for the fourth time this week when he once again offered to ‘show you how a real man treats a woman.’ All the while taking turns watching the clock and the door, waiting for Connor to rush in with his wicked grin, followed by Murphy and his childish taunts as a bar full of friends greeted him.  
The later it became, the more concerned you were. You had now fully accepted the fact that the boys were not coming into the bar, and the fact that Rocco was missing as well, was more than foreboding.  
Your mind raced as you filled pint after pint; where were they? Had they been involved in some vigilante bullshit that they couldn’t get themselves out of? Had they been arrested for the illegal attempted purchase of a firearm? Or were you completely over reacting and were they just home sleeping off a double shift?  
Closing time could not come quick enough as Doc forced Eddie out of the bar, the liquored up redhead throwing wink after wink your way as the old man closed the door behind him.  
“Okay, so what will it be, sir? What’s your poison? Dishes or sweeping? Sweeping? You did the dishes last time I was in.”  
Doc lit a half smoked cigar that he removed from the front pocket of his button up vest before shaking his grey head back and fourth.  
“Darlin’ you go. I got this place.”  
“What? No, I’ll wipe down some glasses and run a broom around.”  
“Rylee, you haven’t stopped watchin’ that damn door since you walked through it eight fuckin’ hours ago. Go find our boys; make sure they’re not into too much trouble, ‘right?”  
“Fine, I’ll go find them, but only to tell them that you’ll beat them straight if they’re off getting into fuckin’ trouble, okay?” You gave Doc a thankful smile as you ran towards the door to grab your coat.  
“You better, Darlin’. You better.”  
Tucking yourself tightly in your knit jacket, you place your hand on the door before looking over your shoulder at Doc who took a long puff on his half-killed cigar. You quickly ran over and threw your arms around the old man’s neck, nestling your face into his shoulder and silently thanking him for caring about the boys just as much as you did.  
Without another word or hesitation, you all but ran from McGinty’s, the night’s air washing over you in sickeningly chilled waves.  
The streets of Boston were close to deserted due to the low temperatures of the night. The entire walk home you only passed a hand full of fellow pedestrians, all of which hugged their torsos and kept their faces pointed towards the side walks and away from the unforgiving breeze.  
The elevator ride up to the top floor was one of the longest you had ever taken as you shook and fidgeted in place, anxiously awaiting the signal that you could open the metal grate doors.  
Approaching the sliding metal front door at a half jog, you crouched over and yanked hard in an attempt to open the heavy door faster than normally possible; however, upon your entrance into your apartment, you were met only with darkness and silence.  
“Con? Murphy?” Your voice echoed off of the concrete walls and you quickly closed the door behind you, not even bothering to turn on the lights or walk inside. It was more than obvious that the loft had remained vacant since you left it hours before.  
Tucking your face down low into the collar of your coat, you groaned loudly as you were forced to keep walking the streets of Boston, not giving up on your quest to find the MacManus brothers.  
As you slowly watch one boot being placed in front of the other on the sidewalk below, the thought occurs to you that wherever the boys are, M.I.A. Rocco was more than likely with them. Before you charge into police stations or hospital E.R.s, you decided to head over to Roc’s place and make sure that they weren’t hauled up there drinking and throwing darts at each other.  
Although you knew too well the annoyance and likely fight that would occur if you found them in such a scenario, you were guilty of hoping that that was exactly the case rather than any of the other morbid possibilities that were currently sloshing back and fourth across your subconscious.  
Just as you turned a corner to head three more blocks south, something caught your eye and made you stop dead in your tracks. A Radioshack window display, filled from corner to corner with T.V. screens shown brightly before you, all of them playing the exact same Channel 10 news broadcast: Nine Men Found Murdered in Hotel Suite; All Victims Connected to Mob Syndic.  
Your eyes glued to the screens, you watched as the blonde reporter spoke silently to you through the glass, pointing up at the hotel behind her, as the text highlights of the breaking story rolled below.  
There was no longer a single doubt in your mind. You knew what had happened.  
You watched for several moments, your heart stuck painfully in your throat. You were waiting for your greatest fear to be played before you on a silent screen: Suspects Dead at Scene? Suspects in Custody?  
Another thirty seconds of the blonde motioning towards the hotel and then the story changed to over populated dog shelter.  
The relieved breath that left you was unlike any other you had ever experienced.  
They weren’t caught, and as far as the news knew, they weren’t hurt.  
You took moving at a heated run for the last three blocks of your journey, finally arriving at Rocco’s paint chipped door, and banging repeatedly on it, impatient for an answer.  
The door was suddenly yanked open and Rocco stood before you, wearing a filthy shirt with what appeared to be pizza sauce spilled on it, and reeking of beer and other assorted booze.  
“They here?”  
You shoved past Rocco and into his overly cluttered apartment, looking around the living room.  
“Oh, hey Ry… Connor and Murph? Yeah, they’re here, we were just…”  
“Where are they, Roc!?”  
“Kitchen. Damn. They’re in the kitchen.”  
Rounding a corner and entering the room with a beer can covered table and a busted microwave, you instantly made eye contact with Connor who was sitting in the corner, opposite the entry way, with Murph beside him, half a slice of peperoni pizza hanging slack from his mouth as he laughed at something his brother had just finished saying.  
“You son of a bitch!”  
“Ry! Baby! Come ‘ere!”  
Murphy quickly stood up to amble over to you before you shot him a wicked glare that made him stop where he stood.  
“Hey, Darlin’. How was work?” Connor looked up at you from the table, a smoke in one hand and a fresh beer in the other.  
“You’ve got to be shitting me. You sneak off, go and murder all those fucking people!”  
“How did you know about that?” Murphy’s sloshed voice cut into your rant.  
“Were you going to tell me? Were you going to come home? What the hell happened?”  
“Sneak off? Baby, we told you yesterday what we were doin’. Ain’t our fault if you got forgetful after out little romp.”  
“Connor, I swear to god…”  
“We knew you had work! Besides, you made it very apparent that you had no interest in our new hobby…”  
“Hobby? Connor! Murder is not a hobby!”  
“Well it fuckin’ oughtta be, we’re so god damn good at it!” Murphy let out a juvenile laugh from where he stood beside you, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as Connor gave a smile in his brother’s direction.  
“You actually did it… You went into that hotel room and you murdered nine people!”  
Your eyes darted back and fourth between sitting Connor and still half giggling Murphy, unable to comprehend what exactly was happening as the shock began to set in.  
“We did.” Connor’s words were matter of fact and coupled with a small nod of agreement.  
“They’re looking for you! You two are fucking wanted now! The first case may have been self defense but there is no way the cops are just going to forgive nine counts of first degree murder because god told you to!”  
“Ry, you need to fuckin’ calm down, alright? We’re not gonna get caught.” Murphy placed a heavy arm across your shoulders and touched the tip of his nose to your rosy, wind-whipped cheek.  
“Oh? And why is that, Murph? Because you watch a lot of Hawaii Five-0 reruns and you think you know how to get away with murder?”  
“We did what was right, and we’d do it again. Those were evil men that we put down like dogs. They deserved what the fuck they got!” Connor stood up as his voice rose, taking you by surprise as he argued his case.  
“Baby, if we hadn’t been there, Roc would fuckin’ be dead right now, ya know that?” Murphy’s slurred words called for your attention as you turned to look at Rocco who was leaning against the far wall.  
“You were there too?”  
“Well, see, the boss sent me in to take care of these guys, but there were more of ‘em than they thought there’d be, so I would of been totally fucked if the boys hadn’t of been there, Ry… Totally fucked.” Roc spoke down towards the floor as if slightly unwilling to look you in the eye as he told his portion of the tale.  
“How could you risk everything we have? Everything we have made together, for this?” Your voice had suddenly shrunk and was something similar to that of a child. You could not understand how something could be more important than the life the three of you had made together. You didn’t comprehend why it had to be their job, why it had to be Connor and Murphy to adopt the modern day positions of Boston’s Batmen.  
“If we don’t do this, who the fuck else will?”  
You turned when Murphy answered you, his words were suddenly solid and no longer slurred, as if your heartfelt question had sobered him up more than any cup of coffee could.  
“Rylee… I love you.” Murphy’s statement wasn’t an apology, but more of a condolence for the way he knew his actions had made you feel.  
“I love you. I’m going, I’ve got to go home,” you looked around the room at the boys’ make shift celebration and suddenly felt like everything you thought you knew about your life and the people you chose to spend it with was being called into question. “Enjoy your night, I’ll just see you tomorrow, okay?”  
Pushing Murphy’s heavy arm from your shoulder, you took the short few steps to Rocco’s front door before pulling it open and walking out the way you had entered.  
A light rain had begun to fall on the quiet streets as you made your way around the first corner, hugging your arms tightly around your ribs and preparing yourself for the walk home.  
You had made it less than one hundred feet before a firm hand gripped your shoulder and turned you around to face them.  
“Why can’t we have both? Huh? Why can’t you accept that this is what we weren’t meant to do and love us for it anyway?” Murphy’s light blue gaze shown through the night at you, where as his dark hair was identical to that of the pitch-black sky above.  
Connor was standing just a few short feet behind his brother, blowing warm air into his cupped hands and rubbing his arms through his black pea coat.  
“I’m afraid that this will be the end of us! I’m afraid that you’re going to go to fucking jail! Or worse, be murdered by one of the people that you’re attempting to kill in the name of god. How can you not understand how fucking scary this is for me?” Your voice cracked in your throat as you felt unwanted tears well up in your eyes.  
“You’re afraid of losing us then? That’s what all of this shit is about?” Connor was staring at your from just over Murphy’s shoulder and you gave him a short shrug and a nod in response.  
“I’m afraid that you might get hit by a bus tomorrow.” Murphy’s words called your attention back to his face as he spoke. “I’m afraid that some fucker will mug you outside of the bar on your way home. I’m afraid every night that you’ll go to sleep in my arms and in the morning I’ll wake up and you won’t. Love is fucking being afraid, Rylee. You find something that means fuckin’ everythin’ to you, and it’s only natural to be scared shitless at the idea of losing it, but that’s life. We can’t control it. We can only live.”  
“We live, and make choices. We choose every day the kind of men we want to be, and the kind of life we want to live,” Connor had taken a generous two steps forwards and was now standing before you, shoulder to shoulder with Murphy. “We chose you, and we chose this.”  
Murphy slowly linked his cold fingers through your own, before bowing his head downward to touch the top of yours.  
“Be with me? Stay with me?”  
Unable to answer without your emotions getting the better of you, you gave Murphy a small nod.  
“Be with us?” Connor’s question made you look at him from his brother’s embrace, his hazel eyes calling to you as you moved to him without question, your eyes giving away your intentions long before your lips were able to.  
Connor had his tongue wrapped around yours before you had even had the chance to let go of Murphy’s hand. Your jaw rocked upwards against his as he pulled you into his chest, the heat from his breath dancing across your wind chapped lips.  
You could smell the musk of his electric excitement radiating off of him, the proof of just how alive he had felt tonight.  
Connor’s bittersweet saliva was coating your taste buds just when you felt Murphy push your dampened hair aside and lick up the length of your neck, sending a shocked heat wave directly between your legs.  
A low whine escaped your mouth and echoed into Connor’s as he continued to kiss you, Murphy however, had taken the lobe of your right ear between his teeth and began pulling gently; a child desperate for attention.  
Wrapping your arm behind you and around his neck, you turn your face towards Murphy and allow him to roll his tongue in a slick wave over your lips, cupping your chin and jutting his hips forward into your own.  
Caught in the pressurized heat of passion, you could feel Connor’s fingers working their way into the tight waistband of your jeans, pulling them down as a whip of wind rose goose bumps all over the skin of your pale ass.  
“Con…We really going to? I mean, it’s so cold and…”  
Without hearing another word from your mouth, Connor suddenly yanked your denim clean down to your ankles, leaving you completely exposed. Moving his way upward, he began to plant hot, wet kisses along the length of your knee and thigh as Murphy already was pulling at his own belt buckle.  
“Murph, baby, it’s just…”  
Cut off once more, Connor laid a firm slap across your exposed backside, making you arch your back and look over your shoulder at him.  
“Jesus, Con…Fuck.”  
“You cold, baby? Here, let me keep you warm.” Murphy, yanking down his own pants, revealed an already throbbed member into the night’s wind.  
Without question you quickly took him in your hand, kneading him and twisting your palm as you reached his firm head, causing Murphy to throw his head back towards the heavens and mutter obscenities in Italian, which instantly set your skin ablaze.  
Moving your other hand down under, you quickly cradled Murphy’s delicate globes in your hand, rolling them against your palm and taking great satisfaction in the uncontrollable twitch that erupted through the rigid shaft held in your opposite hand.  
“Shit, come ‘er.”  
Murphy suddenly pushed you firmly against the side of the building in which the three of you were standing in front of, bending low, he gripped your overly chilled ass between his callused hands and lifted, bringing you up around his waist and allowing you to lock your calves around the small of his back.  
You watched as the dark haired twin looked down at the soon-to-be-made connection between you, lining himself up at your already slicked entrance.  
“Come on, baby.” Weather it was the night’s unforgiving breeze or the sexual anticipation of the addicting first penetration, you were more than ready for Murphy to stretch your channel around his erect cock.  
Needing no further direction, Murphy bucked his hips forward against you, entering you in a forced and delicious fashion. Grabbing a hold of his shoulders to steady yourself, you began to aid him in the act of slowly lifting yourself up to the tip of his enlarged head, before sliding you back down to his hilt.  
You felt grateful moans escape you with every new downward motion and Murphy filled you, his generous cock pulling strained muscles in your abdomen as you rolled your hips forward into him.  
“God, baby. Never stop. I need you to fuck me like this… You can’t ever stop.”  
Murphy bent forward and nipped at your collarbone, pinning you even more firmly against the brick wall behind you; nuzzling his face deep into the crook of your neck, allowing him to savor the scent of your hair and the salty resin of your skin.  
Lost in the fluid motions of Murphy’s rhythmic thrusts; you hadn’t heard Connor remove his own belt. Standing inches from you, you quickly realize what else awaits you and allow one hand to leave the security of Murphy’s shoulders to grip tightly to the second girth desirous of your attentions.  
One or two strokes were made before you offer Connor your hand. Immediately knowing what it is that you are requesting, Connor quickly traces your hand with his padded tongue, coating it in a thin layer of lubricate, lightly sucking your index finger before you remove your hand and send it dive back downwards.  
“Fuck!”  
New damp friction met Connor’s dick as you pulled and twisted his rock solid erection that was hidden from the wind in the security of his pea coat. Tracing your thumb delicately over his leaking slit with every other stroke, Connor was little more than a panting mess within moments as Murphy continued to penetrate you at a vicious speed.  
Your left hand flew up into Murphy’s dewy hair as he continued to husk lurid sounds deep into your ear drum, soaking your core even further; while your right tended to Connor who had taken to relying on the brick wall also for support.  
“C-Con…”  
Connor’s eyes suddenly shot up to yours when you stuttered his name through Murphy’s powerful thrusts.  
Words were not needed, only a slight traveling eye as you looked down at Murphy and then back to Connor who still bit his bottom lip while his cock was in your hand.  
A small nod was thrown your way before Connor’s presence left you.  
An obscene sound of spit-in-palm could be heard as Connor took his position, straddling behind Murphy, bowlegged.  
Knowing what was coming, you grasping Murph tightly with your thighs, forcing him in closer to you, pulling at his hair and whispering husked words of lustful encouragement to usher him on.  
“Baby, stay with me… I’m so close…I’m going to come if you keep this up, Murph.”  
“Holy fucking shit!”  
Murphy’s bucking suddenly came to a halt as Murphy took several deeply heavy breaths.  
“Oh my god… Oh god…”  
“It’s okay, baby, just keep going… Murph I need you to-“  
“Con, move.”  
Connor, who had just forced himself into Murphy from behind, had stood frozen, allowing his twin time to adjust to the harsh change in dynamics, but slowly began moving his hips forward and back.  
“Fuck.” Murphy hissed into your chest as you watched Connor throw his own head back towards the sky in passionate pleasure.  
“Jesus, Murph. You’re so fuckin’ tight.”  
“Con, don’t stop… Oh, fuck.”  
Adjusting quickly to the change in pace, Murphy continued his animalistic maneuver of rolling his pelvis into your own; Connor adopting the same motion as to stay in psych with the two of you.  
The three of you moved together as one, all of you connected, all of you chasing that euphoric peak that was only just a few moments away from each of you.  
“I love you, baby…God, I love you so much.” Murphy’s hair was caught in your fingers as you groaned loudly into his ear.  
“I can’t…Con, he’s…He’s hitting it… Shit.”  
“Come on baby, fuck me. Ride me out and show me how a real man does it.”  
Biting his bottom lip harshly, Murphy fought back the teasing pull he felt against his prostate and shoved you up against the brick wall painfully, crashing his hips into your own and doing nothing to stop the river of crude remarks pouring from his mouth.  
“That’s it baby boy, ride her… Make her come for you… You like me ridin’ your ass, don’t you, Murph, you dirty little slut.”  
Abandoning his place at your neck, Murphy threw his head backward and found his brother’s mouth, licking and attacking his slack jaw. Connor forced himself forward and kissed Murph in a sensual passion that forced you to tumble over the edge unexpectedly.  
You cried out in loud, panicked screams as your climax rode over you like a crashing wave.  
“Murph, Con! God! Yes!”  
“Don’t stop, Connor! Fuck me, harder!”  
Lost in the overwhelming sensation of his puckered muscle being stretched and fucked, Murphy dropped you down to your feet, instantly allowing you to slide down the brick wall and take his ached and leaking cock in your mouth; working him up and savoring every drop of pre ejaculate that he could muster.  
“Fuck, Murph… I’m gonna… fucking, shit. Shit!”  
Connor bucked against his brother in a fury that left them both silent and slack jawed. Murphy’s hot ropes of seed shot into your mouth as you devoured and milked him for all he was worth. Connor slowed his delicious pace and struggled to regain his breath as he gripped onto the brick wall to steady himself, obviously high from his climax and still convulsing every so often as the last waves left his body.  
The boys both silently did up their loose belts and fished in their pockets for cigarettes as another cruel breeze brushed against your hot fleshed cheeks.  
“So…” You lit a smoke of your own before casually handing the lighter off to Murphy who was slightly jumping up and down in anticipation for it. “Who are we hitting up next?”  
Both Connor and Murphy exchanged looks of complete and utter confusion.  
“Excuse me?” Connor eyed you wearily while clenching a Marlboro between his lips.  
“Well, if I’m with you, then I’m with you. Who we killing next, gentlemen?”


	27. The Cat Thing

Chapter Twenty-Seven:

The first thing that awoke you the following morning was the smell; the smell of a foul, already-starting-to-rot, cat that had unfortunately met it’s end, due to gunfire, the previous evening when Rocco had hit the table in a drunken rage.  
You buried your face into the sheets of the squeaky mattress and box springs on which you were sprawled, trying desperately to hide your senses from the odor that crept through your nostrils, however, you found burrowing into Rocco’s bed was no nasal sanctuary either, and you finally sat up in the early morning light of the room.  
Connor and Murph had both fallen victim to slumber with you in Rocco’s bedroom late last night, after far too much alcohol and greasy pizza consumption, leaving Rocco to take the couch in his own apartment. As you stretched your arms above your head and yawned; all the while trying to breathe through your mouth; you found that you were left alone.  
Pulling back on your crumpled jeans that had been discarded onto the floor, you walked out into the brightly lit kitchen, surprisingly only finding Murphy sitting at the kitchen table. The dark haired MacManus was flipping lazily through a muscle car magazine, a look of pure boredom plastered across his pale face and a half killed cigarette twirling back and fourth between his thumb and index finger.  
“Roc got any coffee?”  
Murphy looked up from his magazine at the sound of your voice, a small smile greeting you before a half shrug.  
“Aye, if you can call that fuckin’ jet fuel coffee.”  
“That bad, huh?”  
Widening his eyes and nodding again you, Murphy went back to reading about Chevy Impalas.  
You glanced sideways at the red massacre that was splattered across the wall just above the kitchen table, your stomach slightly turning at the streaks of dried blood and mystery chunks.  
“I am not cleaning that up.”  
Murph let out a small huff before following your line of vision to the red Jackson Pollock.  
“Yeah? Well I sure as hell ain’t cleanin’ it up.”  
“Kind of sounds like a Connor job, doesn’t it?” Your voice was coy and Murphy finally closed his magazine and leaned back in his chair, beaming up at you.  
“There’s my thinkin’ girl.”  
“Speaking of, where is he?” you asked, giving out a small laugh at Murphy’s childish pawning off of chores.  
“Uh, he’s outside with Roc.” Murphy leaned further back in the chair still, peering through the thin drapes that covered the old window, attempting to catch a glimpse of his brother and friend.  
“Smoking?” you asked with your back turned, changing your mind and pouring yourself a mug of jet fuel anyway.  
“Aye, smokin’. Smokin’ and talkin’.”  
You turned around and saw that Murphy was watching the two men intently from the windowpane now.  
“Talking about what?” You sat next to Murphy at the table, carefully squeezing by the liquid dead cat on the wall.  
“’S nothin’.” Murphy said, not removing his eyes from the driveway outside.  
“Really…” You bit your lip before leaning forward and watching too, seeing at once that Connor and Rocco seemed to just be talking calmly back and fourth, their usual cloud of smoke swirling between them.  
Murphy turned to see that you too were hovering out of your chair, staring blankly through the glass.  
“Alright, we think Rocco’s boss might o’ had it out for him last night is all. Con’s talkin’ to him about it now… or at least he’s supposed to be.” Murphy shot a small glare out the window, obviously concluding that if Connor was participating in the agreed upon conversation, it would not be going so smoothly.  
“Have it out for him? Like, what? They want him dead?”  
You took a sip of your coffee and instantly regretted the decision, cringing slightly at the bitterness.  
Murphy chewed his bottom lip nervously before nodding slowly up and down.  
“Why would you think that? I thought last night was supposed to be his big break. He’s not a package boy anymore if they’re sending him out on hits.”  
“Baby, we got in there and took out nine fuckin’ guys! Nine! Roc shows up a few minutes after our clean up with a fuckin’ room service getup and a damn six-shooter.”  
You stared blankly at Murph, waiting for him to continue the story, before suddenly the numbers game clicked in your head.  
“Wait, there was nine men, and he had six bullets?”  
Murph nodded again, sucking back on his cigarette before peering once more out the window.  
“Why? Why would they do that? Did they not know how many guys there were?”  
“Fuck, there is no way they didn’t know, Ry. They sent Roc in there on a damn suicide mission.”  
“Oh my god…” Your voice trailed off as the thought of Rocco’s near death experience settled into your stomach.  
Roc had become like family over the last year, and the idea that he would be dead right now if it hadn’t been for the boys was disturbing you on a deep emotional level.  
“Shit! There it is!” Murphy let out a long breath of smoke before shouting and pointing out the filthy window.  
You looked out and suddenly saw a complete change in Rocco and Connor’s demeanor. Their words were inaudible, however their body language was raging and the two men had obviously began to shout.  
Murphy jumped up from the flimsy kitchen table, rocking it dangerously as he got to his feet, you quickly following inches behind him.  
Exiting the front door, you and Murph walked in a quicken pace around the corner to the cracked cement of the drive way where the two other men stood, obviously on edge but suddenly quiet as the two of you approached.  
“What’s goin’ on? Did ya tell him?” Murphy asked when the two of you reached Roc and Connor, waiting no time on hesitations.  
“Of course I fuckin’ told him.”  
“Well then what the fuck?” Murph asked Roc, quickly losing his temper as he often did.  
“Hey, you guys don’t know that shit for sure!” Rocco’s voice escalated, instantly jumping on the defense of the mob bosses who had treated him like dog shit since he was a teenager.  
“Roc, come on…” You began but were instantly cut off by Murphy’s voice echoing through the early morning, much louder than Rocco’s.  
“Oh you’re such a fucking dumbass! Use your fuckin’ brain for once! Is it so unbelievable that they don’t fuckin’ care about ya?!”  
Murphy lunged forward and grabbed Rocco by his coat, shaking him violently and knocking the smoke from his hand.  
“Oh yeah, and you two fuckin’ micks know what’s goin’ on, huh?”  
“Roc!” Connor’s voice was nothing less than a shout as he jumped back in, “this is not a fuckin’ thing you should gamble on, alright?”  
The four of you stood frozen for a moment, all of you waiting for the next person to speak.  
“I’m the fuck outta here.” Roc ran a callused hand through his wildly mop of dark hair before turning his back on the three of you and walking down towards the street.  
“Fine!” Murphy screamed loud enough that you were sure every neighbor within ten blocks could hear him, “What kind of flowers do you want at your funeral you dumb whap? This is the last time I’m ever gonna see ya!”  
The ironclad fence echoed ominously as Murphy kicked it in anger just as Roc began to turn the corner.  
“I’ll be back at nine, bury the fuckin’ cat!” The Italian called from over his shoulder.  
“Listen, you get in there and start gettin’ a bad vibe, you get the fuck out quick!”  
A pit settled thickly in your stomach that you were sure had little to do with the coffee as you watched Rocco slip from sight, completely oblivious to Connor’s warning.  
****  
There was a near painful silence sitting between the three of you, as you and Murphy took opposite sides of the couch and Connor paced back and fourth across the worn carpet that covered the living room floor.  
“Should we go after him? Back up?” You had braved the task of breaking the quiet only to have Connor stop and look at you and Murphy scoff.  
“We think they are expectin’ to kill him, and you want to show up and hope they don’t do the same to us?” Murphy asked, chewing on his thumb.  
“Well, if we’re there to have his back in case something goes down…”  
“Baby, there is four of us, and god knows how many of them. Safe to say the fuckin’ mob has us out numbered. Plus, us following Rocco in, kind of fucks our element of surprise tactic.”  
You let out a soft sign of frustration before looking up at the ceiling above you.  
“Not to mention we have no idea where the fuck he went…” Connor had begun pacing again as he spoke, leading you to believe that he would have been on board with your plan if he had even the faintest idea of where Rocco was.  
“Con, can you sit? Please? You are not doing this carpet any favors and it already looks like it’s seen better days.”  
“You know, that stupid piece of shit brought this on himself! We fuckin’ told him! Didn’t we? Didn’t we, Murph?” Connor’s voice was frantic as he pointed to his seated brother who gave him powerful nod before huffing a cloud of grey smoke up towards the ceiling and flinging his spent filter into the over flowing ash tray.  
“Aye, we did…”  
“Fucker gets what he gets, doesn’t he? How could he not see what they were up to? Is he a fuckin’ dumbass?” Connor’s emotions were getting the better of him as his voice reached a pitch you had never heard him use before.  
“I called him a fuckin’ dumbass before he left, Con.” Murphy added, nodding again as he reached for his box of smokes on the filthy coffee table, only to throw it in the corner when he realized it was empty.  
“Fuck.”  
“He’s gonna get himself killed, Murph. You know that he fuckin’ is.”  
“More than likely…” Murphy’s voice was low as he flicked his zippo lighter on, extinguishing the flame quickly before igniting it once more.  
“I’m not gonna fuckin’ feel bad when he was too stupid to listen to me, alright? I’m not.” Connor’s voice caught in his throat and he choked on it, turning his back to you and Murphy on the couch as he rubbed his face with the palms of his hands.  
“Yes you will.”  
Connor still faces the wall after your words hit him like a freight train, Murphy, however looks at you with those blue eyes that won you over so long ago, reading your face, and silently acknowledging your opinion.  
You wondered how long Connor would have stood there, pretending to be studying the stained and faded floral wall paper the coated the wall behind the TV, had you not stood up from the couch, your bare feet padding quietly across the floor that had not seen a vacuum since god knows when.  
You wrapped your arms silently around Connor’s waist, nuzzling your nose into his right shoulder blade. You could feel the inhale and exhale of his steady breathing, his entire body seeming to become even more still at your touch.  
“Con?”  
Connor slowly turned around, a watery glaze in his eyes that he was yet able to blink away. “Hmm?”  
“He’ll be back.”  
“Yeah? How do you know that?” Connor gave his eyes a small roll before looking back down into your gaze.  
“Because, he has to.” Your voice was calm and you didn’t dare break your stare; you knew that everything Connor needed to stay calm relied solely on your maintained cool.  
“How do you do that?” Connor wiped at the dampness beneath his eye with the back of his hand. “How do you speak and my fuckin’ mind stops dead in its tracks? I swear, I can feel time slow down whenever you open your mouth.”  
Your petite hand traces the strong line of Connor’s jaw, slowing to a crawl as you gently touch his lips, taking a moment to count the light freckles there. His lips part ways and you can feel the warmth of his breath on your fingertips; your eyelids feel heavy in the moment, so you allow their closure.  
Pushing yourself upwards, you find Connor’s mouth in the dark, gently massaging it with your own. The tip of his tongue pushes into your mouth and dances along side your own.  
You can smell the musk of fresh deodorant radiating off of him as he wraps his arms around you, tightening you to his chest. The stubble on his face rubs harshly against your fair cheeks as his left hand travels beneath your shirt and up the delicate path of your spine.  
The light tickle of Connor’s finger tips makes you melt and leaves you weak in the knees. You moan lightly against his lips as his tongue rolls wave after wave over your own.  
Your hands find his hair and pull gently just as Connor pulls away long enough for the words ‘I love you’ to escape his mouth.  
You nod quickly before an ‘I know’ leaves your throat.  
Every muscle in your body clenches as Connor picks you up into his sturdy arms and begins carrying your bridal style from the shabby living room.  
As if the two brothers shared a subconscious, Murphy ran ahead of the two of you into kitchen, discarding his shirt and revealing his pale, tattooed skin before yanking the kitchen table from the corner of tiled floor and out into the center of the room.  
Clinging to Connor’s neck and nuzzling gently against his broad chest, you watch as Murphy takes a forearm and sweeps it across the table, flinging pizza boxes and beer cans onto the floor.  
You let a small chuckle escape you before Connor looks at his ‘younger’ twin brother and asks; “Really?”  
“What? I ‘ave always wanted to fuckin’ do that.”  
“Well look at you, our own Casa Nova, mother fuckin’ Romeo.”  
Your second laugh was much louder than the first, and brought a smile to both the boy’s faces.  
“Shut the fuck up, Con. Bring our girl over here already.”  
Shuffling through the ocean of cans that now coated the kitchen floor, Connor set you down on the table, his firm hands squeezing your hips before sliding up your shirt, exposing your breasts, before yanking the cotton tee off all together.  
Throwing your shit to the side and quickly removing his own, you could feel Connor pull hard on the button of your jeans before rolling the tight denim down past your pelvis.  
Murphy stood behind your head, a hand running down your clavicle before bending over to kiss you from above. You arch your back as you bend your head to meet Murphy’s lips, all the while feeling Connor panting hot kisses up the length of your right leg.  
Turning your gaze downward, you witness Connor biting at the black lace panties that snuggly sit on your pale waist, the dirty blonde pulling them down, his hazel eyes penetrating you to your core.  
Connor’s look alone sends a shockwave through your system, followed by an unexpected gasp as Murphy’s open mouth begins tonguing your neck passionately.  
You groan lowly while lifting your legs up, allowing Connor to easily remove your last article of clothing, leaving you stark naked across Rocco’s table.  
The brothers unzipping their pants and pulling them down over their thighs is music to your ears as you bend backward to lick Murphy’s exposed stomach. Murphy in return starts pawing at your chest, groping shamelessly, his erection coming to a standing ovation before your very eyes.  
Pushing his pants down to his feet, Connor crouches before you, delving between your exposed thighs.  
“Wrap those pretty legs around my shoulders, Darlin’.”  
Doing as you were told, a deep hiss escapes your lips when Connor’s mouth makes contact with your sex, the Irishman wasting no time before protruding your folds with the tip of his tongue.  
“God, Connor… go slow, tease me a little.”  
Connor’s eyes shoot up to look at you from between your milky legs, spreading a wicked smile across your mouth.  
Murphy’s teeth nip lightly at the lobe of your right ear, his heated breath dancing lightly into your eardrum. You bend your neck, allowing him full access to your favorite place to be bitten.  
Taking your nipple between his thumb and index finger, Murphy twists and kneads your sensitive bud, instantly causing you to arch your back and soak Connor’s grateful mouth with a sudden flood of excitement from your heat.  
Lapping up every drop that you have to offer, you clench your thighs tightly around Connor’s head as he sucks gently at first, then rather harshly at the gathering of nerves at the sat just above your entrance.  
“Oh my god… Connor… Don’t, don’t stop.”  
You could feel a pulsating ache run through your soaked core over and over, a tight knot constricting uncomfortably deep in your stomach.  
Two thick fingers slipped into you with ease and you moan Connor’s name gratefully against the curve of Murphy’s neck.  
Unable to control yourself, you begin to roll your hips against Connor’s open mouth, fucking his face and hand in a rhythm that all three of you know will all too soon send you tumbling over your climactic edge.  
Your breathing becomes labored and you begin to try and pull away from Connor, unable to take his suction on your sensitivity blown clit, only to have Murph instantly pin you down, aiding his brother’s tongue and hand in driving you wild.  
Switching his pace, a third finger joins the first two and Connor begins pushing upwards and in, creating an unbelievable pressure on your most arousal filled inner point. All the while still continuing his alternation of lapping and sucking between your clenched thighs.  
“Jesus Christ! Connor! I’m gonna come! Don’t stop! Please, don’t stop!”  
Murphy pinched tightly at your erect nipples before biting down firmly on your neck, sending you plummeting over into orgasmic bliss. Your body convulsed harshly as you attempted to scream, finding that the ability had all but deserted you.  
Connor groans gratefully at the wave of climactic evidence that washes over his tongue, his fingers still pumping madly into you, allowing you to ride your orgasm to the finish line.  
You collapse flat on your back against the kitchen table, slowly attempting to regain a normal breathing pattern as Connor emerges from your core.  
Walking the two steps around the table to his brother, Connor offers his fingers to Murph, who accepts them gratefully into his mouth, sucking the taste of you from his digits.  
“Our girl somethin’ else or what, Murph?”  
You bite your bottom lip as you look blissfully up at Murphy, who when witnessing your lustfully blown pupils looking up at him, could do nothing but bend low to kiss you deeply.  
You could smell the original musk of Murphy’s creamed skin close to your nostrils as you wrapped your tongue one direction and then the other around his, savoring the man you loved with every sense you could muster.  
You hadn’t heard Connor walk back to his place at the end of the table, but you did feel him yank your knees harshly apart, making room for him between them. Murphy continues to plant heated, wet kisses down your neck and across your collarbone and shoulder, all while you watch Connor stroke himself to his full potential before lining his cock up with your slicked core.  
You lived for the first penetration, the first moment that one of the boys pushed his way past your tightened entrance, only to spread and fill you like every time was the first time. Connor’s thickened head pressed against you and you braced yourself, lifting your hips up in desperate anticipation.  
Connor let out a guttural choke as he made his way inside of you, your channel spreading to allow him entry only to contour around him tightly.  
“Holy shit…” The words rolled from Connor’s lips slowly, just as his hips began to pump forward and back in a torturously slow motion.  
A small gasp erupted from your mouth with each new thrust that Connor gifted you, your eyes glued to the point where your bodies were connected.  
Suddenly, Murphy lifted your chin gently upwards, making you look into his lightening blue eyes.  
“I know you’re high as hell on Connor, but, uh…”  
You bite your lip, trying to concentrate on Murphy’s words all while Connor mercilessly impaled you on his dick.  
“Shut up and get inside me, Murph.”  
Murphy gave his own manhood several quick pumps with his fist before offering his aching cock to your open and panting mouth.  
“Yes, Ma’am”  
Popping his head past your puckered lips, Murphy joined his brother in the low growling of appreciated damp friction.  
Rolling your hips eagerly to meet Connor’s animalistic thrusts while wrapping your tongue around Murphy’s girth was the closest you had ever come to a religious experience. Both men inside of you, filling your needs while gratifying their own, was all you could ever desire. The love and fire you felt for them was unlike any other you had ever known. When you were with them you never felt alone or wanting; everything was complete. You were whole.  
Your fingers ghosted the protruding hipbone of Murphy’s waist as he pumped into your mouth, teasing the back of your throat and moaning graciously whenever your teeth grazed him.  
A glow of sweat had appeared across Connor’s darker toned face as he watched himself enter and exit your heat. Fingers digging into the pale skin that draped over your hips, Connor forced your torso down to meet him, allowing each thrust to be deeper than the one prior to it.  
Murphy’s fingers once again resumed their talented routine of pinching and pleasing your neglected chest before grabbing your hand and bringing it up to his own mouth.  
Sucking hard on your index and middle finger, Murphy was sure to coat them in a generous amount of lubrication, making you all too aware of what it was he needed.  
Within seconds your hand maneuvered its way around the pale brother’s legs, delving between his cheeks to slowly push their way past the tightened ring of muscle that resided there.  
“Oh fuck me!” Murph’s words jumped from his mouth before he could catch them.  
Connor’s pace had become more rapid and unforgiving as he rode you harder, his desperation giving away how close he was hovering to his own orgasmic end.  
Continuing to buck himself into you with ever growing vigor, Connor moved the pad of his thumb between your legs, rubbing tight, pressurized circles into your pleasure filled pearl that currently lay unattended to.  
Your back arched against the table due to the newfound friction, causing you to tighten considerably around both men, leaving the kitchen filled with bilingual sexual obscenities.  
“Fuck, Ry… God dammit, I’m close.” Connor’s lurid tone alone was pushing you quickly towards your second climax within your short stay on the table.  
“Tighten that mouth, baby… I know you wanna scream but I can’t hold off much longer.” Murphy placed a light touch to your delicate cheek, adding an air of passion to his heated fucking of your mouth.  
You could taste Murphy’s salted nectar as it leaked from his slit across your tongue, signaling you at how near his eruption was as well.  
Nearly loosing your mind at Connor’s clit teasing, you begin pumping your fingers rapidly into Murphy’s tightening entrance, watching from below as he clenches his eyes tightly shut and bites his lip near bloody.  
“Deeper, Ry, deeper…” You pushed your fingers further as directed, only to have Murphy all but scream in Russian.  
Murphy spilled across your tongue and lips, coating your taste buds in thick ropes of seed. Every ounce of your self-control was focused on continuing to lap up his climax, allowing him to slowly roll his hips against your mouth, letting him ride out every second of his release before you too joined him in euphoric bliss.  
Letting out a husked half laugh, Murphy bent down on his knees, bringing his face level with yours against the surface of the table.  
“I love you so fucking much, now moan for me, Darlin’. Let me watch you come all over my brother’s cock.”  
“Oh my god… Murphy! I’m going to come! Holy shit! Connor!”  
“There’s my girl…”  
Murphy’s words sounded as if they were being said miles away as your vision went white hot and you came hard, coating Connor in a wave of climax.  
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” Connor’s voice was hoarse as he cried out, your channel tightening and constricting around him.  
“Fuck!” Connor fell onto the table, collapsing his weight onto you before giving way to several waves of twitching body convulsions.  
“God damn…” Connor’s voice was buried against the heated skin of your stomach, all three of you still trying to regain your oxygen levels.  
Connor slowly tongued and kissed your belly button while Murphy pushed sweat drenched hair from your eyes.  
Your vision suddenly caught sight of the ghastly wall on the other side of the room. The one with a fresh coat of cat remains on it.  
“Oh, Con? Baby?”  
“Hmmm?”  
“Murph and I discussed it and we are not cleaning up the cat.”


	28. The Sin Bin

Chapter Twenty-Eight:

 

“Have you ever shot a gun before?”  
Your eyes looked down at the heavy metal weapon that sat in your thin fingers before giving Connor a small nod.  
“Really? Well look who is just full of surprises.”  
Connor’s crooked smile set you slightly more at ease, but not even a dirty blonde Irishman could shake you out of the fear that pooled around you.  
“My Dad… He’s a gun enthusiast, he taught me how to shoot when I was young. It’s been a long time though.”  
Connor loaded and cocked the weapon he held slowly, wordlessly giving you a refresher’s course.  
“Mr. Wood, a red blooded, gun toting, abortion hating American? No!”  
“He also voted to not raise the minimum wage… I’m so proud to be his daughter.”  
You pretended to catch your voice in your throat, as if getting emotional and Connor stared at you a moment, mouth slightly ajar, before rolling his eyes and returning to the unloading of the pistol in his hand.  
“You can’t choose your parents, Darlin’… If you could, trust me, Murph and I would have chosen differently as well.”  
Connor’s callused fingers twisted and turned the metal weapon back and fourth, aimlessly palming it as he spoke.  
“Mama MacManus is a peach, I’m sure. How could she not be? What with all the time her boys spend talking about her…”  
A thin smile crept across your lips as Connor’s hazel eyes met yours, one of his eyebrows raised.  
“That a passive aggressive way of you tellin’ me that you want to have some story time?”  
“Well, Con, Story time usually does proceed Play Time, and we all know how much you appreciate Play Time.”  
“You realize you’re askin’ me to share about my mum, then you wanna fuck?”  
“What? The incest line stops at Murph?” You bit you lip, already anticipating the verbal thrashing and glares you were about to receive.  
“You’re a fuckin’ shit, ya know that! God dammit!”  
“But, Con… I’m your fuckin’ shit, right?” You mustered up your best child like voice and put up a ridiculously large pouty lip routine.  
Connor’s eyes widened for a moment, watching you in your forced innocence, his gaze studying you. “No… You’re his.”  
Your eyes searched Connor’s in a mixture of surprise and confusion, but before you could question the murmured words any further, Murphy returned from the roof top, bounding down the stairs; the musk of smoke emanating off of him.  
“You two about fuckin’ ready? Roc should be back with his mask any second now.”

The previous day, which had found you and the twins sprawled stark naked across a less than stable kitchen surface, was one that had moved so quickly that now it all seemed slightly blurred.  
Rocco’s ex girlfriend and her druggie BFF had showed up, slurring their words and laughing at nothing in particular. They of course had asked if you were ‘the new bitch Rocco was sticking his dick in’, but before you could form words, Murphy had looked down his nose at the woman, who’s arms were riddled with tiny red pin pricks, and answered; “No, sadly that privilege is reserved for me, but Roc is always on the look out for a step up from his last venture… not that that’s hard to find, love.”  
Rolling her eyes and flipping him off, she quickly retreated to the couch where her and her voluptuous companion quickly passed out.  
Connor was blowing smoke out of the kitchen window, bouncing his foot nervously, and staring down the deserted drive away, anxiously awaiting the return of is friend.  
Murph was on his third can of Pepsi, after you reminded him that it was still too early for beer, judgment thick in your gaze and voice. He had taken to flicking old cigarette butts at you from across the room as you lazily tried to complete a celebrity crossword puzzle from a trash magazine you had found in the bathroom.  
The house had fallen eerily silent, a thick calmness sitting in the air; something that made Murphy nearly as anxious as Connor. Fortunately, Rocco ended your stewing abruptly when the front door came crashing in.  
Rocco had forced the door nearly off of its hinges with his shoulder, screaming before he even stepped over the threshold.  
“Pack your shit! Pack it! We gotta get the fuck outta here! NOW!”  
You had instinctually leapt up off of your chair, your action quickly followed by both the boys. You watched with confusion as Rocco ran around like a mad man, gathering odds and ends, throwing them violently into a half unzipped duffle bag that swung wildly from his right shoulder.  
“Rocco? What the fuck is going on? Talk to me, brother!” Connor had thrown his half killed smoke out of the window, rushing to Rocco’s side and trying to get the frantic man’s attention.  
“Get yer shit! Get it now! Those bastards set me up, Con! They set me up!” Rocco’s hair fell over his face as he grabbed the iron from the kitchen counter and threw it into his bag, along with the TV remote, and Michael Jackson’s Thriller album.  
“Roc, will ya just calm down? Talk to us, huh? What happened? They set you up, and what did ya do?” Murphy’s voice was calm but he was following Rocco around the kitchen as he ran back and fourth, eliminating his relaxed persona.  
“No! You start getting’ excited, Mother Fucker!”  
You watched the man you admired and loved suddenly become completely sucked into the raw excitement of the moment as he literally jumped up and down in place before following Rocco around, grabbing random items, and screaming, “Hell yeah! I love this shit!”  
“Roc, did they pull on you first? Did you shoot? What the fuck did ya do?” Connor, still clinging to his senses chased after his brother and best friend trying desperately to get answers.  
Your eyes traveled over into the living room, where all the racket had awoken the sleeping maidens from their precious slumber. Wendy, Roc’s ex, had started chanting Rocco’s name, every time gradually gaining volume.  
“I fuckin’ shot ‘em, man! They sold me out! No choice, Con! No choice at all!” Rocco shook his mopped head back and fourth violently as he threw kitchen forks into the duffle bag, still seemingly oblivious to the cat-like screeching of his name coming from the opposite room.  
“Roc! Did anybody see ya?” Connor’s voice was booming, he was quickly losing patience with the panic and needed answers.  
“Fuckin’ middle of Lakeview!” Rocco’s voice was more shrill than you had ever heard it and bit your lip uncomfortably, worried he may break down in tears, something you were not well equipped to handle.  
“Lakeview the deli, Roc?!” Connor’s eyes widened as he asked his friend the question, only to receive a small nod in response before obscenities began to spew from his mouth and he ran his hand through his dirty blonde hair.  
“ROCCO!”  
Suddenly you and all three men stopped in your tracks and looked murderously at the two women still screaming from their places on the worn sofa.  
“WHAT!?” Rocco ran into the living room, his emotions quickly getting the better of him.  
“Where’s my cat?” Wendy’s voice was much smaller now, now that she could obviously see the rage bubbling just below Rocco’s outer surface.  
You quickly look to Connor, who looked to Murphy, who without hesitation, looked at the disgusting red splatter that still sat all over the kitchen wall, with the one new addition of a 8x10 magazine page of a swimsuit model that Murphy had so kindly scotch taped in the dead center of the massacre.  
“I killed your cat, you druggie bitch!”  
“You what? You killed my, my…”  
“Your what, bitch? Huh? Your what?” Rocco suddenly brandished his six-shooter pistol, pressing it violently to his own left temple before kicking his own coffee table across the filthy room. “I’ll shoot myself in the head if you can tell me that cat’s name! Now, what? Your precious little…”  
You looked to the boys, for the first time in your life, slightly frightened by Rocco. You had never seen him behave this way before. He was livid and out of control, and could not wait for this strung out woman to attempt to remember a cat’s name.  
“Skippy? Skippy.” Wendy bit her finger nervously while looking to her friend for support.  
“Psh, what color was it, bitch?”  
Suddenly the more-to-love companion spoke up in defense of her drug partner in crime. “Don’t you fucking yell at her like that, you prick!”  
“Shut your fat ass, Rayvie! I can’t buy a pack of smokes without runnin’ into nine guys you’ve fucked!” Rocco suddenly changed the gun from pointing to his temple, to pointing at the small space between the eyes of Wendy’s companion.  
“Roc!” You called his name, trying to shake him from the shocking characteristics that he had recently adopted since the last time he had stood in his living room.  
Rocco turned around, still pointing the gun at Rayvie, but looking at you, a look of unadulterated fear sketched upon his worn, Italian features.  
“Rocco… just put it down, okay? Let’s get out of here… we need to just, just go.”  
Your gaze bounced between Rocco, the gun, and Rayvie, who now had thick water works running down her make-up-caked cheeks; your voice breaking mid sentence from a lack of confidence.  
Rocco let his arm fall limp before turning back to the two women on the couch, both of them shaking violently and crying, silently. Nodding slowly, Roc picked up his bag of miscellaneous items, before motioning for you and the boys to follow him on his journey towards the front door.  
The four of you quickly had climbed into Rocco’s old sedan, Connor in the driver’s seat; with Murphy and Rocco exchanging words of ‘liberation’ at the execution of ‘evil men’ men in the back seat.  
Connor drove the streets of Boston aimlessly for nearly 45 minutes, trying to coax every last detail out of Rocco’s story, piecing the events together, attempting to evaluate just how fucked they actually were.  
They had pulled around the corner, driving in front of a classy adult entertainment parlor dubbed, The Sin Bin, when Rocco screamed for Connor to hit the breaks.  
Your hands slammed forward onto the dusty dashboard, bracing yourself as Connor slammed his foot down on the break out of surprise.  
“Shit, Roc, what is it?” You turned around quickly, a look of undeniable annoyance on your face.  
“That’s why some of us where seat belts, lover.” Murphy’s crooked smile and lightening blue eyes teased you from the backseat as Connor put the car in park.  
“Connor is the only person wearing a fucking seatbelt in this car, Murph.”  
“Aye, that’s why I said ‘some of us.’”  
You had just enough time to roll your eyes at Murph before Rocco began his vibrant bellowing from the next seat over, his callused hand pointing violently out of Murphy’s side window as he spoke.  
“Vincenzo! That fat motherfucker! He’s the one that went around and told everybody that I was as good as dead! He comes to this shit hole every Wednesday night, whacks off to the same tittie dancer, never misses!”  
“So…?” Connor lit a smoke before adjusting the mirror so he could watch Rocco talk from the back seat.  
“So, let’s kill the motherfucker! Like, that’s your new thing right?”  
“Well, to be honest, those first ones, they just kinda fell into our laps…”  
You had not spoken to the boys about their first murder at great length. They had told you the simple basics; they had murdered nine men from the Russian mob while they were held up in a hotel suite. Rocco had arrived shortly after to attempt to kill as many men as possible, before ultimately being taken out, as his boss had anticipated.  
Turning around in the front seat, you watched as the wheels in Connor’s head turned slowly, his mind was trying to work out the next step in his ‘mission’ from god. How were they to find these men? Were they going to just start going door to door looking for scumbags?  
It had been then that Rocco had explained to them about his connections; going into great detail about the fact that he knew literally everything that there was to know about the mafia scene in Boston. Truthfully, he had worked around these men since he was in high school, and you had little doubt that he did in fact know the inner workings of all of their lives; apparently, including their masturbation habits; as the car you sat in currently idled in front of one of Boston’s finest strip clubs.  
“…We could kill everyone.” Rocco’s eyes were blown wide with excitement at his final words, obviously waiting anxiously for Connor’s approval.  
“So, what’d you think?” Murphy nudged his brother slightly from the backseat.  
You realized then that your mouth was slightly ajar as your back sat against the passenger window; you had joined in the ominous waiting game of receiving Connor MacManus’ approval.  
Connor took a prolonged drag from his cigarette before giving the smallest nod you had ever seen. If every eye in the car had not been glued on him, you may have all missed it.  
“I’m strangely comfortable with it.”  
Murphy sat back against the backbench seat, obviously relieved at Connor’s response.  
“Fuck it then, let’s fucking go home then. We’ll come back later tonight, take care of that bastard for ya, Roc.”

**  
You looked at Murphy over your shoulder when you heard his voice, giving him a weak smile that was more than transparent.  
Murphy quickly walked over to where you and Connor sat, hunched over and handling deadly weapons. His boots squeaked against the concrete floor as he got down on bended knee, planting a strong kiss against your warm forehead.  
His nose touched your as rubbed back and fourth gently, giving you a sweet Eskimo kiss that momentarily brought you back to your childhood.  
“You don’t have to, love…”  
Murphy’s voice was a barely audible whisper, his voice was low and rasped and part of you wondered weather or not Connor could even hear it sitting two feet away.  
“I want to, Murph. I’m scared, but I need to do this. All I have ever wanted out of life was to be part of a ‘we,’ a strong, unbreakable ‘we,’ you know? And now I finally am. I can say the word ‘we’ and I know that it means the three of us, and it’s the strongest feeling that I have ever had. Our ‘we’ consumes me inside and out, and if this is what you are doing, then this is what ‘we’re’ doing, and I will be damned if I am giving up my place in the ‘we.’”  
Connor let out a scoffed laugh before placing his hand firmly on your thigh, rubbing it warmly up and down.  
Murphy briefly looked down at the floor before meeting your gaze once again, the most angelic smile crossing his chapped lips.  
“You are the strangest fuckin’ girl on the planet, you know that?”  
“So I’ve been told.”  
“But I love you… WE love you, Darlin’.” Murphy looked over at where his brother sat in the opposite chair.  
“Aye, Rylee Elizabeth, that we do.”  
The three of you suddenly stood up quickly at the sound of the sliding door being forced open.  
Rocco entered, brandishing a wool hat with crude holes cut out for eyes.  
“Got it! Let’s do this shit!”

**  
Connor was sure to park the car far enough away that no one would see it out front and recognize it, but close enough that when you had to run, your get away vehicle wasn’t too far.  
The night’s air was brisk and ran waves through your freshly washed hair. You weren’t sure why you thought you needed to be clean before your first murder, but that didn’t stop you from climbing beneath the sputtering faucet back home while the boys had been on the roof smoking.  
“There’s an employee entrance down this alley way where the ladies come out for smoke breaks, we should be able to pop it open with a few shoulder rams.”  
“Workin’ for the mob let’s you know where strippers take their smoke breaks, Roc? Because I know that tidbit of knowledge doesn’t come from personal experience at this fine establishment.”  
Murphy cracked a high laugh that echoed off of the old brick buildings as you all rounded the corner.  
“Don’t you fuckin’ judge me like you ain’t never been in a fuckin’ tit club, Connor.”  
Murphy laughed even louder before slapping both men hard on the backs as he ran between them on the sidewalk.  
“Put your dicks away gentlemen, we’re about to embark on a bloody mission from our lord and savior.”  
Just as the last word left Murphy’s mouth, the four of you had reached the ally outside of The Sin Bin. There were not lights, including the dim embers burning of cigarettes. Currently there were no women enjoying a break, so you quickly led the way past the dumpster and up to the heavy wooden door.  
“Stand back, Ry, I got this shit.” Rocco back up against the far end of the ally, obviously trying to gain momentum before he ran towards the door.  
He appeared half let down, however, when you twisted the chilled knob, only to reveal that the door had been left unlocked.  
The room inside of the door was dark and reeked of cheap perfume. You motioned for the boys to follow you inside, your ears catching the sound of the closing door behind you as Connor shut it.  
Rocco clumsily tripped over a chair, causing a loud clatter to sound, and Connor and Murphy both simultaneously shouting for Rocco to ‘shut the fuck up.’  
There were racks of clothing and costumes hanging about the room, with multiple mirrored vanities sitting against the far wall, make-up, hair spray, and condoms all scattered about the surfaces.  
Loud bass music could be heard bumping through a door to your right, beads hanging over the entryway.  
“It’s gotta be in there, right, Roc?”  
“Yeah, yeah. Get your shit ready.”  
Guns suddenly erupted from pockets and masks were pulled down over faces. Rocco looked ridiculous in his homemade disguise, quickly earning him mass amounts of ridicule from the twins. The realization had just hit you though, that you had not brought nor purchased a mask.  
“Murph…Murphy!” You shook your lover’s shoulder, calling him out of his Rocco bullying. “I don’t have anything to cover my face!”  
“Shit, baby, you’re right. Um…”  
Murphy began patting himself down aimlessly, digging into the deep pockets of his black pea coat.  
“Ah! Here! Come ‘er, gorgeous.”  
You took a step closer to the fair skinned MacManus, only to feel him brush your hair behind your shoulders. He then lifted an old bandana to your nose and cheeks, his hands going behind your neck to fasten it around your head.  
“This’ll have to do.”  
The bandana smelled strongly of Murphy; smoke, whiskey, and musk, but you couldn’t help but breathe him in deeply as you watched Murphy pull his full-face mask down past his chin.  
Connor was the first one to burst through the door once Murphy gave the signal, followed by Rocco, then Murphy. You ran inside the bright pink, faux fur covered room, your eyes dancing around frantically. There was only one woman in the area, whom Rocco quickly grabbed and threatened to give up which booth their mobster target was in.  
Obviously scared out of her mind, the fake breasted dancer pointed to a closed door at the far end of the room.  
“Bingo.” Connor peered down through the peephole in the door. “He’s in there alright.”  
You could hear the stripper scream when the bullets started flying, although she quickly lost volume when she went limp in Rocco’s arms, fainting from the shock. The glass shattered as if it were nothing, falling down in a rain of tiny shards on top of the man who was dead before he had even hit the floor; however all of these sounds took a backseat to what would forever be permanently imprinted on your mind, the prayer.  
Their guns drawn, you witnessed Connor and Murphy MacManus recite words that came easily, obviously from years of deeply planted memorization. It was as if they were informing god that the act before them was in correlation with something that they had all previously discussed, as if god was upstairs, watching this ordeal and nodding approvingly, taking marks down in some large written ledger.  
The words themselves though, were beautiful, and the accented voiced of the men you loved, speaking them in unison, moved something inside of you that you had before never knew existed. For the rest of your life you would be able to hear Connor and Murphy speaking this prayer with such conviction, that in a split moment, they almost had turned you into a believer.  
“And Shepherds we shall be.  
For thee, my lord, for thee.  
Power hath descended forth from Thy hand  
That our feet may swiftly carry out they command.  
So we shall flow a river forth to Thee,  
And teeming with souls shall it ever be.  
In Nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.”

Less than a minute or so had passed before money came threw two more slotted holes, meaning that there were more men behind more doors. Connor quickly climbed out of the mess of blood and glass to peer at the men awaiting their erotica.  
“It’s like a scumbag yardsale!”  
“We come down here once a week and clean house!” Murphy’s voice carried from his place at the opposite door.  
“Connor! Let me do these guys! Please!”  
“No, Roc…”  
“Please! I want in on this! You gotta give me a shot, brother!”  
Connor looked Rocco up and down, his eyes filled with unease and judgment.  
“Come on, Con. Give the guy a shot.” Murphy nudged Connor knowingly in the shoulder before motioning for Rocco to take his gun.  
“Fine, but Roc, this is the real deal, okay? Evil men? Dead men. You understand?”  
“Fuck yeah, I do, let’s do this.”  
“Wait.” Your voice left your mouth before you could catch it.  
All three men shot their heads to look over at you, Murphy’s hand inches from the button that would raise the door.  
“Con, give me your gun.”  
Connor stared at you in a slight mixture of disbelief and amazement.  
“Sure… okay.”  
You were a little surprised at how simply the Irishman handed you his pistol, but you took it form him nonetheless. It was heavy in your hand and you gripped it tightly, raising it to point at the opposite door, your back to Rocco’s.  
Murphy didn’t say a word as he walked across the room to open the door for you, however you could feel the heat of his eyes, the burning of his presence.  
Connor jumped over to hit Rocco’s door, and you heard him count to three in Italian.  
The door slid up just as quick as the first one had, and Murphy ran away from your line of fire as you pulled the trigger of a gun for the first time since you were a child.  
The outline of a grown man stood up as soon as he saw your outline beyond the glass, but there was no time for him to escape. You shot again, and again, and continued to shoot long after the man had fallen forward on top of the broken glass barrier.  
You were afraid that you couldn’t breathe; you had never felt so faint and so alive all in the same instant. You realized that you were still pulling the trigger of an empty gun when Murphy slowly came to your side and lowered your arm for you.  
“You did it.”  
“I did it.”  
Your eyes met the bright blue ones staring back at you through the black mask, and you knew by the tiny lines around his eyelids that he was smiling.  
“Alright, shall we, lady and gentlemen? We need ta get the fuck outta here before this broad wakes up or before someone else comes in and finds our mess.” Connor used his pistol to motion towards the beaded entryway in which the four of you had entered.  
“Fuck, yeah. Let’s go.” Rocco grabbed his mask, which he had quickly discarded earlier, and began making for the door, Connor just ahead of him.  
You took care to step over the unconscious dancer as you walked towards the door, tangling Murphy’s gun in the beads as you went. By the time you released the weapon, Connor and Rocco had already ran out passed the open door that led back out into the ally. You had made it close enough to smell the night’s air before a harsh force gripped your shoulder and spun you back around.  
In the dim light you could see the outline of Murphy’s body, still cloaked in his dark coat and woolen mask. Gripping you tightly with his gloved hands, he forced your back against one of the mirrored vanities that made up the far wall, the crash of lipstick tubes and perfume bottles echoing as they hit the floor.  
There were no words; you had no idea what you would have said even if you had opened your mouth to try. All you could do was pant against the cotton bandana that still covered most of your face, pant in unison with Murphy who grunted violently as he yanked your pants down around your boots.  
Before he could reach for his belt, your hands had already beaten him to it, yanking and pulling in desperation; the thrill of the crimes just committed, along with the fear of being caught at the scene was intoxicating and you knew your common sense had just lost horribly to your primitive human desire.  
Pulling Murphy’s pants down around his tight, pale thighs, revealed an overly impressive girth that needed no attending to in preparation for what was about to take place. Murphy was fully erect and aching, his thighs jolting forward at your touch.  
Your core pulsated at the sight before you, and there was no doubt in your mind that your body too, was completely prepared for the harsh entrance that Murphy was sure to make.  
Just as Murphy was lining his cock up to your slicked heat, your hands went up to pull down the hot bandana from around your mouth, only to met sharply with the word, ‘Don’t.’  
“Leave it.”  
You looked into Murphy’s sunken, lustful eyes; the only part of his face visible; and you nodded.  
Gripping the back of your head, pulling hard at the hair growing right at your scalp, Murphy yanked in unison with his first penetration, sending a violent shockwave through your entire body, causing you to scream in excitement and ecstasy.  
“Fuck! Yes! Jesus, baby!”  
You arched your back against the mirror as you rolled your hips forward, wanting nothing more than to have Murphy reach every depth possible within you.  
There was no foreplay, no teasing, there was just need. You and Murphy needed each other then more than any other man and woman had ever needed each other. In this moment, you were no longer people, you were no longer civilized; you were dark animals that were put on this earth for no greater purpose than to fight, kill, eat, and fuck.  
Murphy bucked his hips forward between your legs; each new thrust erupting a sickly strewn tapestry of profanity from your mouth. You had no idea how long you would be able to last, as your skin already felt as if it were on fire and you could already feel your walls clenching and clinging to the cock working its way in and out of you at rapid speeds.  
Murph was chanting blood-boiling words in Spanish with every snap of his hips, his eyes pointed downward at where your bodies were connected.  
You could feel liquid lust pouring from your body, coating your thighs thickly and making a mess of Murphy’s pelvis.  
“So…Fucking…Wet…”  
“Harder, baby, I need you to fuck me, Murph…I need you.”  
With both of your mouths covered, your laborious activity was becoming increasingly difficult, but neither of you could stop. Each of you were far too desperate, way too far gone to even consider stopping.  
The mirror was thumping rhythmically against the wall; every ounce of make-up was now discarded across the dark floor as Murphy continued to fuck you into oblivion.  
Your thighs ached and you knew you could already feel the bruises forming with each slick slapping sound of your sex meeting his. You tightened your ankles around his ass, bringing him in tighter to you, forcing him to fuck you deeper.  
“You gonna come for me, daddy? You want to come for your little whore?”  
“Fuck! Rylee! Jesus Christ!”  
A tight knot was gnawing at your subconscious and you knew your orgasm was just a few thrusts away and you knew there was absolutely nothing you could do to fight it off. Murphy’s leaking head was teasing and provoking your engorged bundle of nerves deep within your soaked channel and your vision had begun to blur from the pleasure.  
Your hands searched for his and you wordlessly forced them upwards, grabbing Murphy by the wrists and pulling hard.  
Not even skipping a single thrust, Murphy quickly obliged in placing his well worn hands around your fragile throat.  
He didn’t ask if you were sure, he didn’t look at you for a silent answer, he just knew. He knew, and he squeezed.  
The staggering breaths you had been struggling to take were suddenly cut off completely. You opened your mouth to scream but no sound was heard. Your body began to shake and convulse and as your vision became littered with tiny white dots, that’s when you came.  
An eruption of earth shaking magnitude rolled through your nervous system over and over, drowning you in wave upon wave of euphoric bliss. Your heat clenched and milked Murphy’s swollen cock, silently begging him to join you in your climax.  
“Fuck! FUCK!”  
Murphy suddenly released your throat, but grabbed your hair, yanking you hard backwards as his entire body weight collapsed forward. The sound of the vanity mirror cracking behind you was music to your ears.  
Hot, thick ropes released deep into your core as Murphy threw his hips forward sloppily, riding out his last seconds of bliss.  
Unable to follow the rules any longer, you yanked down your bandana, leaving it discarded around your badly bruised neck, before forcing Murphy’s ski mask up to sit in his sweaty mess of hair.  
Pulling him down by his neck, your mouth quickly engulfed his, your tongues making a connection that you both had desperately missed. Murphy, still sitting within you, lapped at your mouth, savoring the taste of you as if he may never taste it again.  
“I love you…” You still could barely breathe.  
“I fuckin’ love you, Darlin’.” Murphy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he slowly took a small step backwards, pulling his pants up.  
You were zipping up your fly and dusting shards of broken mirror from your hair when you suddenly saw Rocco’s disheveled mask pop back in through the still open ally door.  
“Where the fuck? Are you fucking kidding me? Fuck on your own time! Jesus, come on!”


	29. Beg Me

Chapter Twenty-Nine:

The vile sound of vomit hitting water shook you from a deep sleep in the early hours of the morning. The sun was yet to rise and Murphy’s heavy arm lay across your bra covered chest as you sat bolt up right in bed; not waking him, but just forcing him to remove his limb, groan, and rollover before resuming his slumber.  
Your gaze was slowly coming into focus when you heard another wrench from across the room and realized that Connor was hunched over the newly replaced bowl.  
Rolling to the edge of the mattress, you felt around for your pants, but then remembered that Rocco had wandered up the stairs to sleep on the roof only hours earlier, leaving clothing unnecessary.  
The soft padding of your feet sounded in Connor’s ears as he wrenched one more time, half heartedly, before flushing the toilet and falling backwards onto the floor.  
“When was the last time you drank enough that you threw up?”  
You sat down in front of him, adopting an Indian cross-legged pose before letting your ass make contact with the floor.  
The room was dim, but the moon was high, allowing you to catch the shadow of a smile as it walked across Connor’s cheeks.  
“Fuck if I know, babe. It’s been a minute, that’s for sure.”  
“So, you just felt like breaking in our brand new toilet? Christening it, if you will?” Your voice was teasing and you knew that Connor had rolled his eyes, even if the poor lighting hid the actual sight from you.  
“Figured I’d waste good booze by throwin’ ‘em up like I was a god damn teenager? Yeah. That’s what I figured.”  
A small snort escaped your mouth and you quickly covered it, your cheeks burning red at your embarrassment.  
“Was that a fuckin’ snort that just come out of your mouth?”  
“Connor… Stop. I’m still half drunk. I’m blaming it on the alcohol.”  
“Come up with a new excuse then, baby. You opened two beers, and took maybe one drink of the second one… You weren’t even buzzed.”  
Connor always had the innate ability to pay attention to the smallest details of your character, making you feel as if you could never keep any secrets from him. If you had a thought, a feeling, a fleeting craving for deep-fried Twinkies… He probably knew about it.  
“I snort sometimes when I laugh… I hate it.”  
Connor wiped his mouth with the back of his left hand before bringing a knee up as he shifted his weight against the concrete wall behind him.  
“Yeah? I noticed.”  
“What?”  
“I noticed. For the record, you also snore a little.”  
“Liar!” Your blush had to be radiant enough to shine through any early morning hour at this point and you found yourself kicking Connor with your outstretched leg.  
“You do. Swear it, love.”  
“No one has ever told me that I snored in my life! Do I really?” Your voice had adopted something similar to a screeching teen, but if Connor’s claim was true, you no longer had any dignity left anyway.  
“It’s nothin’ too serious. Ma, when Murph and I were kids, she used to shake the panes in the fuckin’ windows from her snorin’. You just kinda snore every few minutes. It’s even a little cute, if ya want the truth… And while we’re on the subject, you talk on occasion too.”  
“Now you’re fuckin’ lying, Connor!”  
“’Nah. Honest, Darlin’.”  
“How could I make it my entire life and no one tell me these things? Huh?”  
“Maybe I’m the first one to ever really pay attention.”  
A blanket of comfortable silence fell between you instantly. You knew he was right; there was not a single doubt of that in your mind. Connor MacManus was the first man, the first person maybe, in your entire life, to ever break through the wall that you had built around yourself so long ago.  
He had captivated you that evening in the bar, that night when he sauntered into your life; completely oblivious at the time that he was changing your entire life in a moment.  
His dirty blonde hair and thick accent had drawn you in, but they weren’t what made you stay. It was the small things; him listening to you sleep, him holding you close in a jammed elevator, him continuing to love you after you had fallen in love with his best friend, his brother…  
Your voice cracked as you cleared your throat when Connor finally reached one long arm up towards the sink; pulling down a half killed bottle of mouth wash from the grimy counter above.  
Popping the cap off and letting it fall to the floor, Connor swigged back a large gulp of liquid spearmint, swished for several seconds, then swallowed.  
“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to swallow it, Con.”  
“What can I say, Baby? I live on the edge.”  
“Yes, I can see that. You’re a real John Wayne there, Con.” Despite your mocking tone, you knew any mention of The Duke would perk Connor’s attention right up.  
“Damn straight, baby. Now that’s a fuckin’ man.”  
Fumbling with the lid he had only just discarded, Connor recovered the bottle of Listerine and placed it back up on the counter so it could be readily available the next time one or all of them were in need.  
“So, enlighten me, what is it that I say during these late night diatribes that I supposedly go on?” You leaned forward onto your knees as you spoke, repositioning yourself on the concrete as your feet had started to tingle and go numb.  
“You don’t ‘talk’ talk, ya know?”  
“No, Con, I actually don’t know, apparently.”  
A light laugh left you and you were grateful that this chuckle had been snort free.  
“You just say words, sometimes a sentence here or there. It’s not a lot.”  
“Like? What words?”  
Connor looked up at you through the little light that had entered the room, and you knew what you said before he got the chance to tell you.  
“Murph.”  
Keeping his gaze had suddenly become far too heavy of a weight for you to bear, as you allowed your chin to dip and your eyes met the floor.  
“It’s alright, Darlin’. I catch him sayin’ your name too.”  
You exhaled deeply and fought for the courage to look him in the eyes once more.  
“Do you ever sleep?  
“Not near as often as you two do… lazy sons a bitches, both of ya.” Connor cracked the knuckles on his left hand as he spoke.  
“Sorry, Daddy… We’ll try harder next time.” Your voiced mocked his temporarily superior tone, and instantly achieved you the rise that you wanted out of him.  
“Oh will you? Will you fuckin’ try harder?”  
Backing away from him on your hands and feet was not getting you anywhere as Connor quickly lunged forward and caught you in a single arm sweeping motion, pulling you back and into his lap with far too much ease.  
All it took for you to engulf Connor’s mouth in your own was a single touch. His skin met yours and within milliseconds your lips mimicked the act. His tongue still tasting of overpowering spearmint, you caressed it with your own, cupping his stubble-clad chin in the palms of your hands  
Tangling his fingers deep in your hair with one hand while slipping your bra strap off your shoulder with the other, Connor abandoned your kiss to tease your neck with nipping teeth and to plant damp, open-mouthed kisses across your bare, freckled shoulder.  
“Con…” Your voice was caught in your throat as sexual longing surged down your spine. “I… You know that…”  
“I know.” Connor’s mouth didn’t leave your heated skin, but instead he just spoke between kisses.  
His tongue overpowering your mouth, the taste of him washed over your taste buds, causing you to suck and devour every motion, every roll of passion, that his mouth gifted you.  
Throwing arms around his neck and shifting your hips, you brought yourself face-to-face, nose-to-nose with Connor. Your legs straddled him against the concrete floor and with the slightest rocking of your hips, you rubbed your heat up and down his crotch; the two thin cotton layers of boxers and panties leaving nothing to the imagination.  
A deep-bellied groan escaped Connor’s mouth as a shock wave maneuvered its way through both of you. Fingers digging into your flesh, Connor grasped onto your hips tightly, pushing you down harder and moving you back and forth for another vigorous repetition. You allow your head to roll backwards, moaning under your breath at the friction being created between your thighs.  
Aiding him in the motion, you lift yourself up slightly before sliding yourself back down against the solid erection beneath you. Connor bit his bottom lip as he pushed your hips back powerfully, the head of his dick pressing hard against your clit and soaking your panties in an instant.  
The two of you then began a rigorous dance of pushing and pulling, lifting and sliding; dry fucking each other into a lust induced insanity. Your tongue washed over his once more as you pulled at his short, dirty blonde hair, parting mouths just long enough to gasp for air and moan his name.  
The friction fire between your legs was quickly becoming too much to bear as you felt an all too familiar pull deep within your stomach. You knew you could finish, you knew that you could easily achieve ecstasy from rubbing and grinding against Connor like some teenager in heat; but you wouldn’t allow it. You wanted to feel your walls stretch and ache, you wanted to see the look on Connor’s face when you took him to the hilt, watch his eyes roll back into his head as you torturously rode him until he begged you to stop.  
“Con… Connor.”  
“Hmmm.” Connor groaned against the radiating heat that was coming off your neck.  
“I need to fuck you…”  
Before the words left your mouth and hit his ears, you had moved your hand between your legs, swiping your damp panties to the side in a single slick movement before yanking open the escape hatch on Connor’s boxers. The next forceful motion of Connor’s hands on your hips brought you down onto him, taking him into your channel with a fluid motion that caught both of you by surprise.  
Obscenities spewed from both of your open mouths as Connor pushed his head back hard against the cement wall. “Jesus fucking…you’re so wet, baby.”  
Tracing his chapped lips with the tip of your tongue, you slowly lift yourself up, making sure to leave the very tip of Connor’s cock securely inside of you. Your hips swaying slightly, you fuck just the tip of him, just enough to tease him to his brink. You wanted him to want you, wanted him to rather fuck you than ever take another breath.  
“Oh my god, Ry…” His voice was harsh and rasped in his throat as his eyes looked down at the slight, yet overpowering connection between your two bodies.  
“Beg me.”  
A dominant thrill ran down your spine as his hazel eyes connected with yours.  
“Or what?”  
You instantly drop your weight and take his cock completely inside of you, contracting every muscle you can possibly control and trying desperately to withhold your own signs of pleasure, before lifting yourself up again; clinging to his ached and swollen head.  
“Fuck!” Connor’s jaw lay slack and open as he panted for air.  
“Or I won’t do that again…”  
“Liar.”  
“Beg me.”  
A slight defiance danced across Connor’s face. The moon was high in the sky and you watched the devil on his shoulder weigh the options of him flinging you over onto the floor, shoving his hand in your mouth and fucking you until you couldn’t walk a straight line; but a crooked smile appeared across his lips and you knew he was on board with your little game.  
“Please, Rylee; please fuck me… I’ll do anythin’.”  
“There’s my good boy.”  
You slowly lowered yourself down onto his solid erection, each of you hissing in pleasure as you did so.  
The muscles in your thighs tensed as you rocked your lap into his, each of you allowing your gratifications to be heard. Connor’s eyes were hungry and you knew he needed a faster speed, you knew he needed you to ride his cock until your legs gave out, but you weren’t ready to give in yet.  
After only a few rhythmic hip rolls, you reassumed your position at the tip of Connor’s cock, earning you an overly frustrated growl.  
“Fuck, come on, babe.”  
“Ask nice, Con…”  
“Please…”  
“Please, what?”  
A wicked grin ran across your cheeks and he knew what you wanted to hear.  
“Please ride my dick, baby. Fuck me until I can’t see, hear, taste, feel, or think anything but you.”  
His words sent an electric shock square between your legs and you felt yourself instantly release a wave of lust from within.  
Unable to wait any longer, you abandoned your slow tease and slammed yourself down onto Connor’s cock, both of you crying out in passion as you did so.  
Eyes wide, Connor watched as you lifted yourself up once again, only hesitating for milliseconds before slamming yourself back down a second time with equal force.  
“Jesus!”  
Repeating the vicious cycle, you continue to bring yourself up before forcing yourself back down, forcing Connor to penetrate your core over and over, each time more determined than the last.  
Only inhaling when you rise off of him, each violent descent down forced all the air from your lungs, making you cry his name with every thrust.  
“Faster, Ry… You gotta go faster or I’m gonna lose my fuckin’ mind.”  
The words had no sooner left his mouth before he gripped your hips tightly. You had driven him past his point of compliance and he was no longer willing to play along.  
Lifting you up as if your weight were nothing, Connor forcefully began sliding you up and down on his thick cock, quickly taking matters into his own hands.  
At this angle, every time your knees hit the floor his cock hit that deep knot inside your heat, pulling at your stomach and making you forget your own name. You quickly realized that you had fallen victim to your own erotic game, and that you were just as desperate as he was, reaching your point of no return far too quickly.  
Biting down on your lip, you gripped Connor’s shoulders tightly to steady yourself, accepting the fact that you had little to no control over how hard Connor was forcing you to fuck him.  
Digits digging deeply into your skin, bruises surely already forming; the slapping sound of skin on skin echoed off the walls as Connor lost himself in his own animalistic pace.  
“God, Connor!”  
You felt your sex convulse dangerously and you knew you were done for, any self-control you may have had left was gone the second you heard Connor start to moan in Latin.  
“Con! Fuck, I’m gonna come!”  
Connor bent forward and bit down hard on your neck, making you scream his name loud enough that it was unbelievable Murph and Roc were sleeping through this.  
“That’s right baby, come for me. Ride me until you can’t take it anymore.”  
His words forcing you over your climactic peak, you felt yourself tumble into the metaphorical pit of pleasure. A white-hot light took over your vision and your entire body shook and convulsed as you suddenly struggled to breathe.  
“That’s my girl, keep going…Fuck, keep riding me… Shit, baby, don’t stop!”  
Continuing to fuck Connor through your own orgasm was a task you had to set your entire body and mind on as you forced yourself to keep moving, even though every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire.  
“Con… I…” Words escaped you but he knew your struggle, instantly flipping you down onto your back, his cock never leaving it’s home between your legs.  
His arms strained above you, Connor thrust his hips forward, fucking you fast and deep, his breathing labored under the weight of his impending orgasm.  
“Con, look at me.”  
It seemed that you heard your own words before you actually thought to say them, and the second that Connor’s eyes met yours, he lost all control. You watched his release wash over his face as he choked for air the same instant that you felt his hot climax coat your inner walls.  
Dropping his weight down heavy on top of you, Connor planted hot, wet kisses against your shoulder while he attempted to regain his regular breathing pattern.  
“Fucking Christ, Ry…”  
“I know, baby… damn.”  
The sound of a small snore hit your ears and you couldn’t help but smile at the unbelievably heavy sleeper that Murph could be.  
“You wanna join me back in our lavish bedroom?” Connor lifted himself up just high enough that his face was level with yours.  
“Con, we don’t have a bedroom, we barely even have a bed.” A half laugh left your chest as you gave way to an eye roll.  
“And we’re never gonna either with that fuckin’ attitude.”  
“Excuse me, I would hate for my being a pessimist to be what keeps us from the lap of luxury, my love.”  
Connor laughed deep in his chest before rolling off of you and standing up off of the ground.  
“You’re right though, we should probably sleep a bit more. I’m sure we have a heavy day of murdering murders and fleeing from crime scenes tomorrow.”  
Connor smiled down at you and offered you his hand.  
“Just sounds tacky when you say it like that.”


	30. Chapter 30 "Fulfilling"

Chapter Thirty:

“Don’t worry, Roc. You’ll feel a lot better after we get this asshole.”  
You had walked over to the corner booth of McGinty’s toting three pints of beer on a tray to serve the boys. You had seen them enter through the worn wooden door and started pouring the moment they took a seat. The face that the three of them would want beer went without saying, but you were also using your above par customer service as an excuse to go and talk to them while abandoning Doc to a crowded bar.  
Connor and Murphy sat across from Rocco, the three of them all looking rather stoic under the filthy lamp that slightly swayed above their table.  
“I’m tellin’ ya, guys. This mother fucker, makes the ones we been doin’ look like alter boys.” Rocco’s face shown a look of true distain with a touch of fear as he eyed the beer you sat in front of him.  
“I take it we’ve picked our next winner?” You sat down next to Rocco, lowering your voice against the noise of the booth behind you.  
“Sounds like it, Darlin’.” Murphy gave you a stern nod before taking a swig from his pint glass.  
“So? When do we hit him?”  
Murphy looked up at you with heavy lidded eyes, a small smirk rising high on his right cheekbone.  
You knew he was surprised at how quickly you were adapting to this new life the four of you had entered; and frankly you were surprising yourself at the same time. Suddenly, something inside of you had changed, just as it had changed in the boys. Something that had once seemed unbelievable, seemed completely outlandish, had become your new norm.  
The moment your finger had pulled that trigger for the first time, the moment that you felt your pulse race, was a high like no other. Knowing that you were ridding the world of one asshole at a time was something that you were instantly onboard with; and you were having a hard time hiding your level of excitement at the next potential outing.  
“Well look at our Little Miss Eager.” Connor lit a smoke as he teased you from the opposite side of the table.  
“This is what we do now, right? We might as well make it a regular thing. We don’t want the criminal underbelly thinking we’re flaking.”  
Connor tried to hold his smoke in while fighting back a small chuckle.  
“Aye, she’s right you know, there is nothing worse than someone with no follow through.” Murphy’s mocking tone and wicked smile was something that you could never tire of, and it semi pained you to have to walk away.  
“I’ve got to get back to it, gentlemen, but you better have a nailed down plan before my next break.” You whispered your words as you stood back up, taking the now empty tray with you.  
“Or what, Baby? Huh? You gonna punish us?” Murph looked up at you before stealing the cigarette from between his twin brother’s lips and placing it between his own.  
“No, lover. You enjoy being slapped around a little too much.” You raised an eyebrow, looking down in those crystal blue eyes that never ceased to entrance you.  
“Pot? Kettle? How does that sayin’ go, Ry?” Murphy drew in a deep breath of smoke but that did not stop you from lowering your jaw to his, taking his mouth against your lips and pursing his taste with the tip of your tongue.  
Smoke erupted from where your mouths met and you felt Murphy’s fingers dig deeply into your scalp as he gripped the hair at the back of your head.  
“I’m going back to work now…” Your voice was a mere murmur as you took the time to nudge his nose with the tip of your own.  
“Aye, you go on then.”

Several hours and two drunken bar brawls later, you found yourself taking the shaking elevator ride to the top of your building, something that no longer put the fear of god into you. The lights in the steal box flickered dangerously as an all too familiar creaking hit your ears, and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling fondly back on the memory of being stuck in this elevator with Connor.  
Those long hours that he had comforted you through your extreme claustrophobia were monumental in the growth of your relationship; a man who you had known a hand full of hours was gifting you relief and solace unlike anyone else ever had.  
Though that day seemed so very long ago now, you knew that it wasn’t. Time with the boys seemed to both race forward and stand still, all in one glorious whirlwind.  
It was as if your life before you walked into McGinty’s on that first night was a completely separate lifetime from the one you lived now. That girl, who you had been all of your life, seemed like a distant memory. You were well aware that you were still her, just a better version; a stronger willed, loved version.  
A part of you often thought back on ‘that girl’ as if she was a complete stranger; longing to go back in time and find her, wanting to tell her to hold out and to hold tight. You wanted to go back and reassure her that a dirty blonde, sarcastic Irishman was waiting in a Boston bar for her, and that his blue-eyed, captivating twin brother was preparing to make her burnt breakfast and bad coffee.  
Grinding of metal on metal signaled your time to get out of the elevator as the grates opened up into the dirty hallway outside the loft. Your boots clicked softly against the concrete floor and before you reached the heavy sliding door, you could already hear Murph and Connor laughing from the other side.

“You smelled like fuckin’ shit fer a week, Murph!” Connor’s slurred words and booming laughter were red flags that he was already three sheets to the wind.  
“I did not, I fuckin’ got it all out.” Murph was rolling his eyes as you entered the studio apartment.  
The boys were siting across from each other at the flimsy card table in the corner, florescent lighting illuminating your less than luxurious abode.  
“What are we laughing at, Con?” You set your purse down before quickly discarding your boots and tossing them into the corner, Murphy already holding his arm out for you to come and sit on his lap.  
“When we were kids, like 10 or some shit, we were out workin’ with Ma, takin’ care of the animals and what not; well Murph gets the idea that it will be funny to scare this old goat we had, right?” Connor’s face was grimacing in pain, already trying to hold back his laughter; all while Murph let out a muffled ‘fuck’ into your shoulder as he planted a solitary kiss against your pale skin.  
“Murph gets down and gets behind the fuckin’ goat, and when he’s about an inch or two behind him, he screams, right?”  
You smiled widely as you reach for Murphy’s half killed beer, taking a small swig.  
“Con, it’s not that good of a story, damn.” Murphy groaned, grabbing for his smokes.  
“Fuck you, Murph, it is too. Anyway, well the goat nails him right in the god damn head, sends him hurtling backwards, and where does Murph land?” Connor, nearly dying of repressed laughter, held out his arm to Murph, motioning for him to finish their childhood memory.  
“Shit, I landed in shit, Connor.”  
“Yes you did, my dear brother.”  
Tossing an arm across the back of Murphy’s neck you look down at him; “Poor baby,” only to have Murphy roll his eyes dramatically at you as well.  
“He couldn’t get it all out of his ears and hair! Ma musta washed his ass 40 fuckin’ times and still nobody would sit next to him in school for days.”  
“At least I could blame a smell for my isolation, what was your excuse, Con?” Murph reached for his beer bottle before raising an eyebrow at his brother from across the table.  
“I have no idea what the fuck you’re talkin’ about. Everybody fuckin’ loved me.” Connor winked at you before leaning back lazily in his chair.  
“Don’t they always…” Murphy’s voice trailed off as he lit a new cigarette.  
“I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t a fan.” A thin smile cracked across your face as Connor lifted one eyebrow at you before sending you a silent kiss from across the table with a purse of his lips.  
“Yeah, so I’ve heard.” Murphy took a long drag before grabbing your chin with a solitary finger and gliding your mouth to his.  
The smoky kiss left a bitter taste of tobacco mixed with the hot taste of Murphy across your taste buds and you completely forgot the fact that this show of affection was originally just to serve as a taunt to Connor.  
Your lips went their separate ways, but the index finger of your right hand had found a stray curl at the back of Murphy’s neck, and began twirling it in a continuous circle before you turned your attention back to Connor on the other side of the table.  
“Did you boys do your homework while I was away? Do we have a plan for the next member of this fine city’s underbelly?”  
“Aye, Roc gave us all the 411. Apparently the fucker has a kid who leaves the garage open when he goes out for a bike ride after school. His wife is the stay at home type, so we can use her to open the back for us.” Connor answered as he set his empty beer bottle back in the center of the table.  
“Roc knew all of that?” You asked, a tone of surprise in your voice.  
“Aye.” Connor agreed, his eyes wide, apparently sharing in your impressment.  
“Who knew? I never would have guessed him to be so observant. He really is going to come in handy with our new hobby.”  
“Yes, our little package boy turned assassin. Roc is just full of surprises.” Murphy’s mouth curved into a half smile while gripping your hip tightly beneath the table.  
“So, when are we going?”  
You tried and failed to hide the hint of excitement in your voice.  
“Is tomorrow soon enough for you, babe? Or should we just give Roc a call and tell him to meet us in the fucker’s front yard in 10?”  
“Well if it was really up to me, I mean, seize the day and shit…”  
Taunting Connor was simple on a good day, but when he was already six beers deep, it was a cakewalk.  
“Pretty face and a smart mouth, that’s the woman we fell for, brother.” Connor looked over at Murph who swallowed a swish of beer before nodding in agreement.  
“I kinda think she’s got a pretty mouth too though..”  
The tone in Murphy’s voice had dropped to a husk and you looked down into his blue eyes from your place in his lap, and could almost visibly watch his hunger ignite.  
“That I would also have to concur with, Murph.”  
Connor’s voice instantly matched his brother’s, and you were left for mere seconds wondering how the three of you could go from casually planning a murder to heavy breathing and engorged sex organs so quickly.  
“Has anyone ever offered to put that pretty mouth of yours in its place, Ry?” Connor’s lurid voice called to you from across the table.  
You knew instantly that the three of you had fallen into a game; a kink in which all of you were free to say and do whatever would get each of you off the hardest.  
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, baby.”  
Locking eyes with Connor and biting your bottom lip was the final straw, you had egged him on and fully adopted the role in which he was silently begging you to play.  
All the while you had been taunting Connor, you had not thrown a glance to the man holding you in his lap, and suddenly he stood up; catching your legs in his free arm, Murph quickly threw you over on top of the two mattresses that were pushed together on the cement floor.  
Your body bounced for a millisecond before Connor and Murphy both pounced on you; pinning your limbs and covering your mouth.  
Although you knew you were safe; you knew that Connor and Murphy would never hurt you; none of that logic stopped your heart from beating frantically against your chest, or your arms and legs, which were struggling to get free.  
“I think it’s time that we prove to you how much it pays to listen; how good girls can be rewarded; and how bad ones can be punished.”  
Connor’s voice echoed in your ear as he leaned in close to your face. You could feel the heat from his breathe dancing across your cheek and smell the shampoo scent from his hair.  
“This can go easy for you, if you do as you’re told. Now, are you gonna be my sweet girl and listen to what Murph and I tell ya?”  
Slowly removing his hand from your mouth, you knew this was Connor’s cue for you to beg for punishment.  
“Fuck you, Connor. Fuck me, or fuck Murph. Do whatever you want, I’m not your toy.”  
Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Murph, your black haired, blue eyed stallion watching you silently, hunger and pride both resting flatteringly across his young face.  
“Have it your way, baby girl. Murph, get the rope.”  
Giving you a raised eyebrow and a slight shrug, you watched as your lover turned on his heel and stalked beyond your path of vision. Your eyes darted back up to Connor, who was staring down at you with the same lust that had won you over the second you saw him on the first night you met.  
Strong hands tightened against your wrists as you felt Connor press you down harder against the mattress, his knee moving up between your thighs teasingly.  
A deep groan escaped your lips as delicious friction warmed its way up your body. Connor pressed his knee harder and moved it slowly up and down, working it between your legs just enough to make you desperate for more.  
Your lips parted and a shallow breath escaped from between them just as Murph knelt down above you, quickly fastening your wrists to the radiator that sat against the wall above you.  
“Teasin’ her already, huh?”  
Looking up, you caught sight of Murph speaking through clenched teeth as he spoke, holding tightly to the smoke between his lips, all while pulling at his knots. After extinguishing the cigarette; (and forgetting that he still had a second one perched behind his right ear); Murph undid his belt and pulled it slowly from his waist, peppering your mind with lurid ideas.  
Taking his place next to you on the bed, Murph grabbed your chin gently and guided it upwards to his, pushing his tongue past your teeth and embarking on a dark kiss that only added to your quickly growing anticipation.  
A callused hand pushed your shirt up past your belly button as a hot tongue dipped into the small slope of your skin. Still locked in Murphy’s kiss, you felt the familiar pull of Connor’s teeth attacking the button of your jeans before his hands began ripping them from your hips.  
“Didn’t bother with panties this morning, did we?” Connor’s voice was thick as he spoke. “Thank you, laundry day.”  
Murphy’s tongue wrapped silkily around yours just as Connor’s dipped between your folds, immediately attacking your already swollen and aroused pearl. You let out a small yelp of surprise before quickly wrapping your legs around Connor’s neck, fully adopting the sudden wealth of attention.  
Never breaking contact with your lips, Murphy’s left hand pushed your shirt up further, allowing him to skillfully open the front clasp on your bra with ease. Rough fingers wandered lazily around your erect nipples, grazing them, but never quite giving them the attention they desired.  
Both his hands gripping your hips, Connor had taken on the rigorous task of sucking and lapping at your clit, soaking your core within seconds. You were caught off guard by his lack of build up, but were far too appreciative to question his motives.  
Connor released the grip of his right hand on your hip and inserted three fingers swiftly beyond your entrance. Your back arched against the mattress as you fought against your rope restraints. Your thighs tightened against his head just before he hit that majestic pad of nerves up against your clenching channel.  
Knowing he had hit his mark, Connor added enough interior pressure to nearly drive you insane; all while continuing to devour your clit.  
You were quickly losing the power to focus on Murphy’s forceful kisses and could not stop yourself from moaning openly against his mouth. Yanking your head away from Murph’s you looked down to see Connor’s beautifully tan face buried deeply between your milky thighs.  
Rocking your hips upward, you were getting too anxious to pace yourself. Murphy’s fingers stopped their coy dance across your chest and pinched down hard on the nipple of your left breast.  
“Oh my god, don’t stop…Fuck, Connor! God I’m so close.”  
Continuing his rapid fingering, Connor lapped deeply at your folds and you felt that knot pull within your stomach that he had made you feel so many times before.  
“Are you gonna come for him, baby?” Murph’s lurid whispers warmed your neck as he licked the length of it. Words had now escaped you; all you could do was nod furiously before throwing your head back and moaning uncontrollably.  
You held your breath and readied yourself for the climax that was so close you could practically taste it, when suddenly Connor flung your legs from around his neck and surfaced abruptly.  
“What? No, baby, don’t stop! I’m not… I didn’t…”  
“I know.”  
You looked up at Connor with a monstrous combination of fury and frustration.  
“You don’t think I know when you’ve come or not? Ry, have more faith in me than that.”  
“What the fuck, Con?!” Your arms struggled against your rope bound wrists as he flung your legs apart widely.  
“You chose to be the bad girl; the disobedient one.”  
You looked up into Murph’s eyes as Connor wiped his mouth crudely with the back of his hand.  
“Only good girls get to come, baby.” Murph bent down to plant a soft, condescending kiss on your forehead. “Bad girls need to earn that privilege.”  
“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” The anger in your voice was too real and your lost orgasm had taken your ability to play along with the boys’ little game with it.  
Out of thin air a loud snap sounded and a harsh, painful sting made contact with your left inner thigh. You cried out before realizing that Murph had slapped you with his discarded belt.  
Gripping your chin strongly between his thumb and index finger, Murphy stared into your eyes with his crystal blues. “Game is simple, lover. Do as we say: You get to come…hard.”  
“How about you two just finish the job you fucking started and fuck me already? Huh?”  
Murphy couldn’t help but smile down at you; obviously proud of the fight you never seemed to lose.  
“You want to get fucked, sweetheart?” Connor was sitting between your legs, holding your knees wide; looking down at your core spread out before him.  
“That would be fucking ideal, yeah.”  
“As you wish, Miss Wood.”  
Connor reached down onto the floor beyond your eyesight and brought something cool to the heated mouth of your channel. Before you could object you felt a long, curved toy penetrate you to the hilt; coursing a long whine from you as it brushed against your g-spot.  
“Mmm, God…” Your moans trailed off as you clenched your eyes shut tightly, biting your lip and enjoying whatever attention your swollen sex could get.  
“Murph, I think our girl’s a little horny…” Connor spoke in a deep tone that sent a shiver up your spine.  
“’S fine, that’s exactly how I like her”  
“Aye, me as well.”  
Your breathing was labored as you panted heavily while rutting your hips forward, shamelessly attempting to fuck the faux cock in Connor’s hand.  
“If you’re that hungry baby, I’ll feed you.”  
An unexpected cry escaped your lips as Connor flicked on a strong vibration that rocked within your soaked heat.  
“Yes, Con…”  
Clenching your knees tightly and arching your back was doing you no good as Connor pinned you down firmly with one hand on your stomach as he worked the toy in and out of you with the other.  
“What do you say, Ry?”  
Your mind was swimming and you were positive that you had bitten your bottom lip bloody. You couldn’t speak, how could he expect you to speak?  
“What do you say, baby? Tell me or I’ll stop… You want me to stop?”  
“No!” You finally formed words at Connor’s threat. “Don’t stop! Thank you, Connor.”  
“There’s our girl, Murph.”  
“She’s being so good, Con, Shall we reward her?” Murphy’s dark glances down at you were overpowering, and you could feel his aching cock growing against your waist as he watched you squirm beneath him.  
“I don’t know, brother. She was pretty mouthy before.”  
“A little bit then? I just really want to have those in my mouth.” Murphy’s eyes had strayed down to your bare chest, which was bouncing with ever rut of your hips.  
“Aye, Murph. Go on then.”  
You felt the hot pad of Murphy’s tongue trail along your collarbone before traveling down to your nipple, where he began instantly sucking ferociously while kneading the other breast in his palm.  
“Murph, just like that…”  
You knew there was a slim chance that the game was over, and you knew that it was likely for them to continue to tease you. Any second of this sexual bliss could be your last, however that thought did not stop you from relishing in the euphoria you had currently found yourself in.  
You could feel yourself coming, the build up was thick in your pelvis but you dared not scream it; at this point you thought death would be a better alternative than to have the boys cease their actions.  
“Murph… Murph!” Connor removed the toy from your ached and teased sex, only to have Murph remove your nipple from his mouth.  
“She was tryin’ to come quietly wasn’t she?” Murph and Connor both looked down at you as if you were a child caught with your hand in the cookie jar.  
“Baby, I thought you’d learned your lesson. We’re in charge here. You want to come? Then you better fucking ask our permission.”  
Murphy’s dominate language was taking you back to the night he had surprised you in that hotel room; the night where he had slapped your ass and refused to fuck you until you screamingly begged for it.  
“Ah! You are driving me insane!”  
“Kind of the point, my love.” Connor gave you a devilish wink before bending low to gently kiss the inside of your thigh.  
“I swear to god if someone does not fuck me soon-“  
“Someone?” Murph looked down at you with a crooked smile and a raised eyebrow.  
“Yeah, someone! I would prefer you or Con, but at this point I will take what I can get.” Your breath had started to calm but your voice still cracked at the end of your sentence.  
“Me or Con? Or me AND Con?” Murphy’s eyes had slid away from you and were instead eyeing his brother who was running a stray finger up and down the length of your thigh.  
Connor bit his lip and looked down as if he were thoroughly contemplating something. Murphy’s words had set a fire within your belly and you didn’t know which emotion you felt more strongly: Fear or intrigue.  
“Murph, I don’t know if she’s up for that.” There was hesitation in Connor’s voice and his tone had momentarily dropped its lustful cloak.  
Murphy suddenly scooted his body low and parallel to yours, allowing him to send his voice softly into your ear.  
“Do you trust me?”  
You could smell his smoky breath against your own skin.  
“That’s not even a question.”  
“Tell me to stop if it’s too much.” Murphy’s voice was shallow and you knew Connor couldn’t hear his words, even though he was silently watching you from two feet away.  
You gave him a small nod.  
“I love you, baby.”  
There was something in the way Murphy whispered his last sentence to you that could have prepared you for anything. You trusted him more than you trusted yourself, and that fact alone made you feel invincible.  
“Con, brother… What happened to tellin’ her? Huh? This is not optional for her. She chose to be disobedient.” Murphy lightly punched his twin on the shoulder while quickly readopting his cool, condescending, sexual demeanor.  
“Murph’s got a point, darlin’. You did choose to forfeit your say in the matter.” Connor squeezed your calf lightly as he spoke.  
“Who said I was objecting?”  
Your calm, challenging words made both men instantly eye you through hooded, dark lids.  
“Lift her up.”  
Murphy’s domineering command made you all but gush as suddenly Connor was hoisting you up by your waist, your arms still restrained to the radiator.  
“Me on bottom then, ah?”  
Murph gave his brother a nod but Connor was already half way under you. Gently adjusting your body over his, Connor laid your back against his bare chest; his chin nestled in the top of your hair.  
The heat radiating off of Connor’s body was enough to make your blood boil, and you gave the smallest of moans when you felt the tip of his cock brush against your neglected folds.  
“You want your reward now, baby?” Connor’s husked voice echoed in your ear.  
“God, yes.”  
The words had no sooner left your mouth before Connor had bucked his rigid member past your entrance and immediately began fucking you with a vigor that made you scream out in euphoric bliss.  
The feeling of finally being able to feel him inside of you setting every nerve in your body on fire as you yanked and fought against your restraints; trying desperately to take some control over the animalistic act.  
You sloppily attempt to move your hips with Connor’s harsh thrusts, but having your hands bound above you, and Connor fucking you from below, was leaving you very ill equipped for too much participation.  
Throwing his pants over his shoulder, Murphy came to hover above you and Connor, slowly lowering himself to kiss you deeply, all while Connor continued his rigorous duty.  
You abandoned the kiss to bite your lip and quietly whine Connor’s name as you felt a liquid wave erupt from your overly frustrated channel.  
Murphy dipped his hand down below him, slowly feeling the friction between you and his brother with two fingers. Bringing them up, he took a moment to push and brush against your clit, making you instantly fall against Connor’s chest in pleasure.  
“You’re so fucking wet, baby… Connor and you are both soaked.”  
You were having trouble forming words once more, as you opened your mouth but only mews of sensual longing escaped.  
Connor was holding tightly to your hips while snapping his own back and fourth; sliding you up and down his swollen sex.  
Bending low, Murphy took the very tip of his tongue and ran up over your folds, all while Connor continued to fuck you into a puddle of your former self. Murph reached the tiptop of your soaked heat and began massaging the pearl between his pursed lips.  
“Jesus! Oh my god, Murph, baby… suck it, don’t stop.”  
Much to your surprise, he didn’t.  
You could feel the rope cutting into your delicate skin while Connor forced you down over and over on top of his dick while his brother tongued and sucked your clit as if he was starving for it.  
The teasing had set you on edge and you knew you were going to come within a matter of seconds, and you silently begged for neither of the boys to stop fucking you.  
“You close, baby?” Connor’s thickly Irish accent huffed its way into your ear.  
“Yes, please don’t stop, Con.. I can’t take it. Let me come, I’m begging you.”  
“How bad do you want to come on my cock, darlin’?”  
Connor’s filthy mouth was always the soundtrack to your climax.  
“So fucking bad, never stop fucking me, Con! Please, I’ll do anything.”  
“Come for me, babe… Come on, let me feel it.”  
As if your body had been anxiously awaiting Connor MacManus’ approval, you suddenly felt a rocket shoot up your spine, as well as every single muscle in your entire body clench down, convulsing violently against Connor’s sweat soaked torso.  
“Connor! Fuck!”  
You felt a liquid eruption leave you and Murph instantly groaned lustfully.  
“God, I love it when you do that.”  
Murphy slowly rubbed the top of your sex with two fingers, gently allowing you to ride out your climax, but still managing to keep you hungry for more simultaneously.  
Still rock hard, Connor’s cock twitched deep within you, and you realized he had not erupted along with you.  
“You ready, Murph.”  
“Aye.”  
Murphy slowly crawled up your torso, licking the sticky sweat from your stomach as he went. Finally reaching your face, your gaze met his and you instantly felt as if you would never be complete until he was inside of you.  
Momentarily looking down, Murph lined up the tip of his dick with your entrance, which still held tightly onto Connor. You felt him push, and instantly you and Connor both let out a foreboding hiss.  
“Murph!” There was a slight panic in your voice, and he instantly snapped his attention back up towards you. Cupping your chin with the palm of his hand, that lighting blue look of his soothed you without a single word leaving his lips.  
Dipping his hips low, Murph pushed a second time, only now with much more tenacity. You cried out loudly as you felt Murphy’s head enter you with a small pop.  
Your breathing was labored and you bit your lip hard. You could feel Connor’s chest beneath you heaving as well, and you knew he was just as unsure as you were.  
With a gentle roll of his hips, Murphy forced his way completely inside. The three of you sat there frozen, all of you trying to catch your breath before preceding to the next step, whatever that may be.  
Murphy’s eyes searched yours, and you knew he was silently asking you to give or deny him permission to continue his conquest. You lift your chin slightly and brush a light kiss over Murphy’s chapped lips, and he answers you with a small nod.  
Slowly pulling out, Murph gave himself more room to penetrate you a second time. The second time was no easier than the first and you couldn’t stop yourself from twitching a little.  
The third time, however, Connor also moved his hips lower, gently gliding you to the tip of his still hard, erection. This time, both boys penetrated you together, in perfect synchronization; and the feeling was quite simply indescribable.  
Clinging tightly to your restraints, you lay there between the two men that you loved, both of whom slowly were fucking you in a flawless rhythm that was making you forget to breathe.  
With each new thrust, your body changed and adapted to the new flow of things, and you began to relish each new turn, never taking for granted the euphoric feeling of fulfillment that they both were giving you.  
Your body ached and hurt but in the single more delicious and satisfying way that you had ever experienced. Murphy hover above you, while Connor rocked below you was everything you could have ever asked for.  
Your mouth began emitting small, unexpected moans with each new movement, and this somehow seemed to be the signal of OK for the boys to let loose their own blissful releases.  
Connor’s deep moan came out in huffed barks as he slid you up and then back down the length of his body; Murphy never missing a movement and staying in perfect unison with him.  
“So…fucking…tight…”  
Connor’s broken sentence sent a shockwave through you, and you had no power over your hips when they started to roll forward first into Murph, then slightly backwards into Connor.  
“Jesus, baby.. You’re so fucking good.” Murphy had slumped slightly forward as he spoke dryly against your neck.  
“Faster…Boys, go faster…”  
You were unsure if you could handle it, but you wouldn’t know until you tried, and the thought of Connor and Murphy both picking up speed; both fucking against one another within your aching and contracting channel was nearly a climax in and of itself.  
Instantly obeying your command, Connor began thrusting his hips upwards, just as Murph dropped his. Their speed amplified within seconds and you all but choked on your own passionate cries.  
There was no other feeling like this in the world. You couldn’t hardly move, you couldn’t think, you could barely breathe, and here were these two men who all but walked on water, slowly fucking you, loving you, until none of you could move anymore.  
Dipping his head downward, Murphy once again took up his task of sucking and nipping at your erect nipples, setting a heat wave to erupt from your skin as you threw your weight completely down against Connor.  
“Murph, baby… I’m, I’m getting close.”  
You were surprised, but you were. You could feel that all too familiar tug and pull deep within your gut, the same one that made you hold your breath and clench every muscle within your control.  
“Thank god, me too.”  
If you hadn’t been so sexually intertwined, you might have laughed, but Murph seemed unable to hide his own impending climax that was moving in on him.  
“Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t… I’m gonna…”  
At Connor’s forewarning, Murph instantly took the initiative and began forcing the snapping of his hips at a rhythm that was quite frankly putting you and Connor to shame.  
You could feel Connor’s chest sink in and you knew he was near eruption.  
“You gonna come, Con? Let me hear it, baby.”  
Connor’s lips parted and let loose a guttural moan that was unlike any you had ever heard him emit before.  
Just as Connor came, Murphy instantly yanked your body upwards and moved you over to the left, freeing Connor from beneath you. Without missing another moment’s hesitation, Murphy immediately dove back within your core, fucking you as if his next breath depended on it.  
Throwing your legs around his waist, you cry out euphorically as sweat dripped from the end of Murphy’s nose. Releasing an animalistic grunt with every new thrust, you grab Murphy’s face and push your tongue past his lips. Tasting the sweet smoke that still seemed to always linger within his mouth, you ferociously came for the second time.  
“Murph! God, baby, fuck me! Please!”  
Knowing you were losing control and being desperate to join you, Murph bit down hard on your neck, sending you into a quivering mess as you choked on your own orgasm. Murphy shot hot ropes of seed deep within you and screamed your name loud enough that the neighbors would without a doubt hear.  
The three of you lay there in a mess of limbs and a lack of words, all of you heaving for panicked breaths and knowing that sleep would be the next thing to find your trio. After all, tomorrow held more than any of you could have ever anticipated.


	31. Fire Fight

Chapter Thirty-One:

What woke you was the repetitive beeping. Every few seconds there was this tiny blip of sound that toyed through your ear and aggravated the migraine that had settled deeply within your skull.  
While attempting to cover your head with a pillow, you felt a tug at your forearm and realized that you were attached to something.  
Opening your eyes blindly to a dark room, you yanked hard on tubing that was attached just under your skin; ripping an IV drip from your vein and a heart monitor from your finger.  
The tiny bings coming from the machine monitoring your pulse began ringing much more urgently as you swung your legs over the side of the bed; immediately alerting near by medical staff of your movements.  
Your feet hit the floor but collapsed under your weight. Your shoulder and hip made contact with frigid cement covered in a thin layer of tiling, just as a slew of curse words left your lips.  
A searing pain rocketed through your abdomen and you knew that you had no chance whatsoever of getting up off of this floor on your own.  
Clasping at the pain with both hands, applying pressure in a futile attempt to reduce the painful surges, you began to feel a damp heat trickling across your palm.  
As you lifted your hand up to your face in the dark, someone opened the door and entered the room in which you were confined; bringing in just enough light with them that the blood running down your wrist became visible.  
“What is going on here? Ms. Wood, are you alright?” A man with a deep voice and a shadowed face bent low to put one arm under your shoulder and another under your knees, lifting you up into his broad arms with ease before laying you back on your gurney.  
“Where am I?”  
“Huh? Boston Regional- Nurse, get in here; we have some torn stitches.”  
“What…what happened to me? Where’s Murph…Where’s Connor?” Your words had begun to slur as a dizzy spell hit you hard and fast.  
“I don’t know who that is, Miss. Nurse! Stitches, now!”  
A small woman in gray scrubs scuttled her way into the room, carrying with her a tray of gauze, disinfectant and a curved needle.  
“I need them… I need to find them.” In your daze you attempted once more to raise yourself up off of the bed.  
“Ma’am, you’re going to need to lie down. If you won’t sit still for me then I’ll be forced to restrain you.”  
The light from the hallway outside was creeping in and you could just make out the half shadowed, stern face of a young doctor and the petite form of a Latina nurse.  
“What happened? How did I get here?”  
Your voice cracked as the doctor plunged a needle into your wound, apparently trying to repair whatever damage your attempted escape had caused.  
“An old man dropped you off. He’s asleep out in the waiting room now I believe. He said you were his employee?”  
Another prick of the needle entered your skin and you could feel your skin being pulled together.  
“Doc? But where are they?” You couldn’t stop yourself from closing your eyes as your migraine screamed from within your skull.  
“They? Connor and… uh, Murph, was it?”  
Clenching your eyes shut, you nodded weakly in the doctor’s direction.  
“I’m sorry, I have no idea who that is. The older gentleman is outside, I can get him for you if you’d like. Nurse, will you go out in the waiting room and grab…”  
“No,” Your words cut off the doctor’s instructions, “What happened? I don’t…I don’t remember.”  
The doctor’s voice shifted and he stopped stitching your open wound.  
“I don’t know exactly how, but, uh… Ma’am, you were shot.”

********  
“Jesus, what time is it?”  
This was at least the 20th time that Murphy had demanded the time; which was quickly followed by the 20th time that Connor rolled his eyes and gave it to him.  
You and the boys had been sitting in the back of a black van with Rocco for what seemed like days; patiently awaiting the departure of your newest victim’s son.  
“Fuck, can’t we just go and hope the fuckin’ fence or somethin’?” Murphy’s voice was that of a whiny child and you knew asking him to be patient and well behaved was almost cruel.  
“Murph, I told ya, we’ve got no way in until the kid opens the garage,” Rocco was staring up at the ceiling of the van, not even acknowledging Murph with a glance while he told him the plan for the umpteenth time. “The guys in the fuckin’ mob. He’s got this shit locked down like Fort Knox.”  
Even though you had been sitting in a sweaty van for over an hour, you couldn’t seem to con your heart rate into staying at a normal level. You kept playing with the gun Murph had given you; exchanging it between your palms, examining it, and checking the magazine; all while silently begging yourself to not let your nerves get the better of you.  
Several cars had lined the streets as men walked into the house through the front door, all supposedly attending the mobster poker game that Roc had clued you and the boys in on.  
“I’m gonna kill you… and you… and you…”  
A smile crept across your face as you watched Murph peer through the driver’s side window of the van, counting off whose head he would blow off first.  
Roc was leaning his back against the wide swinging back doors, obviously shaken at what was about to happen.  
“You breathin’ steady there, Roc?”  
Connor spoke; making it obvious that you weren’t the only one who had noticed his shaking hands.  
“I’m fuckin’ fine. Shit. This asshole… He deserves this.”  
“We know Roc, that’s why were here, isn’t it? You already did your convincing.” Connor had turned his gaze now too on his twin brother who was fiddling with the keys in the ignition.  
“Murph, stop touchin’ shit, will ya?”  
“Con, I’m bored!”  
You looked up at Murph from your place on the floor and gave a small laugh as the man who tied your very soul in knots whined like a child to his brother.  
“Look! There he is! There’s the fuckin’ kid!” Murphy’s voice was near giddiness as he pointed frantically out the window.  
Leaning forward, you saw a boy around the age of ten, pedaling his bike down the drive way and around the corner; very clearly leaving the garage door open in his wake.  
“Fuck, go, go, go,” Connor directed us to move out of the van with a casual wave of his pistol towards the back of the van.  
The soles of your boots hit the pavement and you heard Murphy slam the doors shut behind you. Everything around you suddenly seemed a blur as your ran frantically towards that open garage; the entrance to the next step in your vigilantism.  
Connor reached the door that connected the garage to the house first, quickly pulling it open and entering a hall, which led to the kitchen.  
Rocco followed closely behind, but Murph motioned for you to go in before him as he kept looking over his shoulder and checking behind you for any surprise stragglers who may have shown up late to the party.  
As you rounded the corner and entered the pristinely flawless kitchen, you saw that Connor had already quickly subdued the wife; making quick work of binding her hands together behind her back and throwing duct tape over her mouth to keep her quiet.  
“Listen, I’m not gonna hurt ya, you understand? You and yer boy are gonna be just fine.” Connor pulled her up by her restrained hands and began to lead her out into the backyard.  
“Over there, that’s where the fuckers are playin’ poker.”  
Rocco motioned over to a secluded, small house, separate from the main one as the five of you made your way across the lengthy backyard.  
A modest black door was all that stood between you and the den of future victims as you watched Rocco threaten the woman if she didn’t enter the key code to open the door.  
“I’ll fuckin’ kill ya if you don’t do it, I swear…” Rocco tripped over his words sloppily before Connor pointed out the fact that her hands were still bound.  
Cutting her loose, the frightened woman quickly punched in a four-digit code, right as Connor pushed a small electric shock into the small of her back; knocking her unconscious just as the lock slid open in the door frame.  
Connor yanked the door open, rushing in without a moment’s hesitation; closely followed by Rocco. Murphy rushed in past you as you gave a side-glance to the woman lying below you in the grass.  
Time seemed to slow down, a matter of seconds seemed like minutes as you put one foot in front of the other and crossed threshold.  
Standing in horizontal line, the four of you stood, guns drawn, staring at a room of about eight men, all obviously caught off guard; all of you trying to grasp exactly what was the next move.  
“All of ‘em.” Rocco’s voice echoed through the dead silence as Connor pulled the trigger and released the first bullet.  
The bullet exited the chamber and spun clean through the chest of a man standing in front of the pool table, sending him to the floor in an instant.  
The mob peons had begun pulling their own weapons on the four of you, however Connor and Murph were far too quick to let even a single finger find a trigger.  
The boys were so calm and collected; you couldn’t help but fall under a spell of awe as you watched their faces of determination; shell casings of bullets flying in every direction like some type of faux fireworks.  
By the time you realized that you were yet to pull your trigger, every foe’s body had hit the floor and Rocco was running around frantically looking from corpse to corpse.  
“He ain’t fuckin’ here!” The panic pulsating from Rocco’s voice was real and Murph quickly grunted in frustration.  
“What the fuck do ya mean, he ain’t here?”  
“Check again!” Connor yelled, as he exchanged an empty magazine from his gun with a fully loaded one.  
“I know what the fuck he looks like!”  
Just as the words left Rocco’s mouth, a small white pocket door slid open behind him.  
“Look behind ya!” Murph pointed directly beyond Roc’s profile as the shaggy haired Italian swung himself around.  
Sticking his gun into the crack between the door and the wall, Rocco released a single shot into the stomach of our main target, only to have his arm struck directly with what appeared to be a towel rack pulled from the bathroom wall.  
“Fuck!”  
Pulling abruptly back, Rocco wore a look of horror as a thin, shallow faced man in tinted spectacles erupted from the bathroom, already bleeding profusely from his abdomen.  
“Shit! Shit! Shoot this Mother Fucker!”  
Rocco began dodging back and forth, trying and failing to get away from the man, before he pounced on him, his hands taking a firm grasp against Roc’s windpipe.  
“Roc-“  
Murphy began to rush to his friend’s aid, only to have his brother throw an arm out to stop him.  
“Con! He’s gonna fuckin’ kill him!”  
“No, he needs to finish it. You’re the one that wanted to bring him in.”  
Out of the corner of the room there was a sick gasp emanating from the floor and Connor caught sight of a man groaning and attempting to get up. Abandoning Roc’s conundrum, the tanned Irishman stalked across the room and planted a shot directly between the man’s eyes, before stylishly catching the shell casing in mid air with his free hand.  
While Connor was distracted, Murph had taken it upon himself to grab the cue ball form the pool table that sat in the center of the room, motioning it towards Roc; who was beginning to turn a dark shade of purple due to lack of air; then rolled it across the pale carpeted floor, nuzzling it softly within Roc’s reach.  
Wrapping a firm palm against the ball, Rocco brought his arm up in one solid swing, clocking the man square in the temple, immediately throwing him off balance and sending him sliding down against the couch.  
Giving himself no hesitation, Rocco bound on top of him, beating him profusely with the cue ball now soaked in red.  
“Sick fuck! Sick fuck!”  
Connor and Murph both stood back, standing witness to the gruesome murder taking place right before their eyes; forever earning Rocco his place amongst the boys and their mission.  
However while the boys stood in bloody awe, a small movement caught your attention from the corner of your eye. There was a barrel of a gun slowly moving against the carpet, signaling that the owner of said weapon was still holding on to his last, shredded breath.  
The black cylinder swiftly moved away from you and took aim directly at Murph, who still had his back turned while Rocco turned a man’s head into a Gallagher watermelon.  
Still palming your weapon in your right hand, you drop to your knees and slide forward onto your stomach. A blood soaked man was quietly struggling for air, cowering behind the body of a lifeless friend, attempting to claim one of his assassins before he fell backwards into darkness.  
When your body made contact with the floor, the man’s eyes turned from Murphy to you, immediately locking. In the small instant that that the two of you both sat, engaged in each other’s existence, you were surprised to see that his eyes held no remorse; they held no pleading or fear. You looked into this man’s eyes; this man who in his criminal career had probably ruined many families and taken many lives; and saw nothing but rage.  
“Fuckin’…bitch.”  
The man’s words came out like a hot mess as he practically spat blood in your direction. Swinging his arm wide, the barrel of his pistol abandoned its vendetta against Murph and now was brandishing its power towards you.  
Years ago, if someone had asked you what you would do in that situation; what you would do if you had a gun pointed at your face, you never would have said that you would have shoved it aside, you never would have guessed yourself capable of forcing yourself forward to make the first move; but then again, you weren’t that girl anymore, and you didn’t miss her. That girl would have just died in this instance.  
Jumping forward, you pinned his wrist with your left hand, which was followed by the sound of a bullet hitting the dry wall once he pulled the trigger. Your peripheral vision caught Connor and Murphy’s boots pivoting around at the sound of the gun, but before either of them could make their way to the floor, your gun makes a home against the bottom of the man’s jaw. Forcing the pistol upwards, you pull the trigger.  
He was dead before his head hit the carpet.  
“Fuckin’ shit!”  
Murphy was on the floor, at your side, pulling you up to look at him.  
“Fuck, Ry. Fuckin’ got him didn’t ya?”  
You exhaled deeply before giving a weak laugh and a small nod.  
Gripping your cheeks between his gloved hands, Murph pulled you up and kissed you fast and deep; silently thanking you for preventing a bullet from meeting his spine.  
“Fuck you, Connor!”  
All three of you looked up just in time to see Rocco abandon the limp, lifeless body of our initial target, and make a b-line for Connor; obviously angry about Connor’s ‘learning by fire’ approach to vigilantism.  
Standing up quickly, Connor grabbed Roc by the shoulder and swung him around, forcing his large body on top of the bloody pool table.  
“Now take a fuckin’ deep breath there, Roc. You did fine. It was nicely done.” Connor’s booming voice showed dominance but also congratulations.  
Rocco’s chest heaved viciously as Connor placed a gloved palm over his mouth and bent down to plant a kiss on the top of his hand.  
“Shall we, lady and gents?” Murphy had picked up the bag of weapons that he had dropped by the door and was urgently ushering for all of you to vacate the now massive crime scene.  
“Fuck.” Rocco took one last look around before running a blood red hand through his filthy hair and walking out the open door.  
Your feet quickly swept over the grass as you anxiously made your way back to the house, taking care to step around the still unconscious house wife, who would soon enough wake and realize that it was time to put her house on the market and hit her local single’s nights.  
Marching though the house you noticed blood dripping off of all of you, tiny little speckles that dotted their way across the pristine tiled floor. You watched these tiny drops fall from Connor’s finger tips, from the strands of Rocco’s wild hair; all these dollops of red, some smeared by the tread of the boys’ boots, were all evidence someone would be examining and cleaning up within minutes of your escape.  
Connor reached the front door first, twisting the knob and pulling it open, no longer seeing any reason to be coy about your evacuation.  
Murph followed him, then Roc, and as you finally stepped out and onto the porch, you walked slightly into the back of Rocco’s coat, finding him surprisingly stationary.  
Breaking your gaze from the rainstorm of blood pooling in your wake, you finally looked up to see what was holding up the motions of escape.  
There was a man.  
Gray hair shimmering down to his shoulders and a white beard covering his face; he held a cigar tightly between his teeth and wore black sunglasses against the late afternoon rays. There was a peculiar way in which he stood, almost patient, as if he had all the time in the world, just for you.  
Running on nothing but pure instinct, you gripped your gun tightly against your palm, something inside of you screaming to prepare.  
“Fuck.”  
Connor’s last word echoed in your ear before the firefight of gunfire began raining down upon you.  
Throwing his coat back, the old man revealed six stored guns sitting snuggly against his chest in a leather vest; obviously fashioned for no other reason than to be a deadly assassin’s best accessory.  
Three guns were brandished at the old man simultaneously; you, Connor, and Murphy all on edge and ready to embark on a blaze of bullets and glory. Rocco stood completely off guard, shocked and unaware of what was about to happen.  
Gripping two guns, one in each palm, the aged stranger took aim and began to fire. Bullets, one after another, quickly ricocheted off of the stone pillars that surrounded the luxurious porch on which the four of you stood.  
You couldn’t pull your trigger fast enough, releasing one fire after another, never letting your arm lose its steady balance and aim at the old man.  
Dropping down to his knees, you quickly take glances as Rocco pulls his gun from the waistband of his jeans and joins the three of you in your violent self-defense.  
Roc was the first to fall. You weren’t sure where exactly he had been hit, but he quickly dropped to all fours and crawled towards the shrubs on the left side of the porch, taking cover and screaming in pain.  
The unknown gunman dropped his first two weapons without a care onto the pavement before reaching down lower onto his vest, fetching the second row of deadly firearms.  
Light fixtures were falling from above you as bullets flew in every direction.  
Rocco had joined in the fight once more, firing his gun from his place on the ground, shouting something that was inaudible over all the gunpowder release.  
That was when Murph was hit; falling forward, you watched as your lover fell towards the shrubs on the opposite side of the outdoor landing, still firing his gun, but taking cover after his shot to the arm.  
Continuing to steady your aim and attempting to make every shot count, you watched as the man dropped his third and four pistols, and retrieved his final set of two, never seeming to cease fire even for a second.  
The first bullet that left the chamber from his fifth gun was the one that made a clean break through your abdomen.  
You didn’t scream, you just looked down to see a pool of blood making its way through your shirt; a mixture of shock and surprise taking you over.  
Lowering your weapon and continuing to stare at your stomach, you heard Murph scream for Rocco.  
Suddenly two large hands grabbed you just under your breasts and threw you down onto the wood chipped ground behind the bushes, Rocco continuing to scream and fire his gun while sitting side by side with you.  
You looked upwards to see Connor, standing alone in the center of the now porous entry way; never abandoning his trigger finger, even when you watch a bullet make violent contact with his thigh.  
Hearing Connor scream like that, in a true pain, was something you had never heard before. Listening to him scream out, yet still stand his ground awoke something inside of you as you took back up your gun and joined Rocco and Murph in their gun fight behind shrubbery.  
Finally running out of ammo, the man abandoned his last two guns and ran down the street and out of sight, leaving a disastrous mess of blood and bullets in his wake.  
“Murph! Are ya alright? Ry?!” Connor’s voice was broken and frantic as he limped backward to see who was harmed and how badly.  
“Who the fuck was that?!” Murph stood up from his place on the ground and immediately began attacking the bloodstains on the walls behind you with ammonia, in an attempt to wash away any DNA evidence.  
“Roc, get the fuckin’ bag!”  
Connor had joined his brother in deluding the blood left behind in our wake and screamed for Roc to pick up the bag of weapons at his feet.  
“He shot my fuckin’ finger off!” Rocco’s cries were frantic, however he did as he was told and picked up the black duffle bag with his good hand.  
Standing up and steading yourself, you placed a single hand over your stomach before you spoke.  
“Come on! We need to get the fuck outta here! What if that fucker comes back!?”  
**  
The ride back to apartment was a blur.  
Afterwards you would recall nothing of climbing into the back of the van, of Murph jumping into the driver’s seat, or of Connor and Rocco screaming at one another, throwing vicious cycles of blame back and fourth.  
You didn’t remove your hand from your stomach the entire drive; only once you had clambered out of the back of the van and had entered the rickety elevator that had once frightened you, but was now a symbol of safety, did you finally dare peek at what your hand concealed.  
A hot pool of crimson covered your palm and as soon as you released the pressure, you watched as a gush of blood escaped you. Unable to put the pressure back, you suddenly felt faint and slumped sideways against the metal cage of the lift.  
“Fuck, Rylee!”  
Murphy moved backwards and caught you under his good arm.  
“Connor! Look at her fucking stomach.”  
“Jesus…”  
With Rocco’s help, Murphy half carried, half drug you beyond the metal sliding door of the loft, and laid you down onto the mattress, letting you bleed all over the sheets.  
“Flip her on her side.” Connor and dropped to his knees and was holding tightly to a bottle of Jack.  
“Through and through. The bullet’s out.”  
Murph touched the exit wound on your lower back as you let out a small whimper.  
“Here, stick this in her mouth.”  
Brandishing a bandana that Connor had retrieved off of the card table, you felt Murph pull your jaw down and put the fabric between your teeth.  
Cradling your head in his lap, and motioning for Rocco to hold your arms, Murph gave the okay for Connor to pour the whisky over your bullet wound.  
A hot searing pain washed over you as you clenched your eyes shut and screamed into the cloth that gagged you.  
“Shhh, baby… I got you.”  
Hot tears rushed down your face as you buried yourself into Murphy’s lap.  
“We gotta close that up.”  
Murphy’s voice was muffled to your ears while he tightly held your head and stroked your hair.  
“Aye, I’ll get a needle.”  
You could vaguely hear shuffling around you, followed by Murphy and Roc’s grip tightening on you.  
You felt the needle pierce threw your skin and flinched, though you knew that Rocco pinning your arms down was a little extreme.  
“Fuck.” Connor’s whisper was not instilling hope in his medical skills.  
Your skin stretched as Connor pulled it together and tied off his handiwork.  
“Con, it’s still fuckin’ bleedin’.” Murphy’s voice was riddled with doubt and concern as he slowly removed the bandana from between your teeth.  
“Fuck this shit.”  
Rocco released your arms and you could hear his heavy footsteps echoing across the cement floor of the loft.  
There was shuffling, and several clicks before Connor spoke again.  
“Rocco, fuck..”  
“It’s gotta be done, to all of us.”  
Murphy’s fingers entangled themselves in your hair as he bent down so low that you could feel the heat of his breath against your ear.  
“Over in Killarney, many years ago, Me Mither sang a song to me in tones so sweet and low, just a simple little ditty, in her good ould Irish way, and I’d give the world if she could sing that song to me this day…”  
His voice was the softest that you had ever heard it as he gently cooed a lullaby into your ear.  
“What is that?” You whispered back to him when his voice broke between verses.  
“It’s Too Ra Loo Ra Loo Ral, Ma used to sing it to me and Con at night.”  
“It’s beautiful.”  
You nuzzled your nose against the denim that covered Murphy’s inner thigh.  
“Aye, I always thought so.”  
Murph continued to lull you into a calm while Rocco and Connor spoke in harsh, hushed tones in the corner.  
Finally you heard the ominous sounds of boots pacing towards the center of the room, and you felt weight dropping down on top of the mattress next to you.  
“Open up, darlin’.” Connor’s voice was quiet as he offered you the damp bandana once again.  
Taking a deep breath in preparation, you opened your mouth and allowed Connor to force the cotton over your tongue before he sat back over your legs, pinning them beneath his own.  
“Deep breath, lover.”  
Upon Connor’s command, you inhaled deeply through your nose as Rocco once again took hold of your arms.  
It was then that the burn came, searing and melting your skin together into what would one day be an unmistakable scar across your back. You writhed your torso back and fourth and screamed against your fabric gag, tears rushing out of the corners of your clenched eyes.  
The hot metal was removed just as quickly as it had arrived, cauterizing your exit wound in mere second as you whined and cried, all while trying to catch your breath through your nostrils.  
“Flip her, Con. Other side.”  
Rocco’s voice was shaky and you tensed up every muscle in your body, preparing for a second burn to come on your stomach.  
“Can’t do it… I already fucking stitched the front. If I burn it, there’ll be a nasty infection inside from the thread. We’ll just bandage the front and watch it.”  
Your body eased as soon as you heard Connor’s words, and Rocco released your arms from beneath his weight.  
Murphy gently pulled the bandana from your mouth and kissed the top of your sweat drenched forehead.  
“Tough little shit, ain’t ya?”  
“I try,” you answered weakly.  
“Color me impressed.”  
Murphy’s crooked smile was suddenly more comfort than any doctor or drug could have treated you.  
His gaze quickly abandoned yours to look up at Connor who seemed to be examining the still gushing hole in his thigh.  
“Who’s next then? While it’s still hot…”  
You’ll never forget the smell that filled your apartment that night, the smell of seared and burned flesh. After all of your memories from that day, lost and recovered, the most vivid would always be that smell. It made a home deep inside your nostril cavity, making all of you gag for hours afterwards; a hot, meaty smell that would forever ruin barbecues for you in the future.  
You all took turns exchanging places; whoever’s turn it was to have their wound cauterized, the other two placed themselves around them, pinning their extremities while the remaining member of the foursome forced a white-hot metal iron; cooked over an open flame on the single burner stove; onto their flesh.  
Rocco was missing the entire pinky of his right hand when you removed his glove to examine it closer; Murphy and taken a bullet to his left bicep, which was a painful bitch to dig out; and Connor had a bullet deeply embedded in his right thigh, which none of you were able to remove, despite multiple, gory, attempts. Connor made the executive decision that the bullet had to stay in, and there is exactly where it would remain, for the rest of his life.  
You sat on the floor while Rocco cauterized Connor’s thigh; pinning his feet down by sitting on them and wrapping your legs and arms around his calves. You watched as Connor and Murphy both sat on top of the card table; Murphy grabbing his brother from behind, holding tight to the community bandana draped across his tongue. Connor screamed into the cotton the moment Rocco forced the iron onto his skin, and you flinched to see him that way, every muscle in his body trying to escape his skin.  
Murphy held tightly to the bandana, pulling it across Connor’s cheeks, keeping him from biting his own tongue, all while burying his face into Con’s drenched hair. There was urgency in both the boys’ eyes, almost as if they were fully capable of feeling exactly what the other one did. Connor raised his right arm above his head, searching for Murph, finding him, and grasping tightly on, locking on to the only beacon of strength he had ever truly relied on.  
**  
Wind whipped through your hair as you extinguished your fourth cigarette, Goosebumps rising across your pale skin as you stood atop the roof in nothing but jeans and a bra; your shirt now destroyed from blood and punctures.  
Dropping the butt slowly from your fingertips, you watched as it made the long journey downward before connecting with the sidewalk, just as the other three had done before it.  
Looking down you gently touch the already blood soaked gauze that Connor had dressed your entry wound with, wincing as you applied a little too much pressure.  
Looking over the ledge of the roof proved to be a dangerous game as a swift wave of vertigo heaved its weight over you. Abandoning the clean air for that of the burned mugginess of the apartment, you slowly lowered yourself back down the metal staircase.  
“Where did the TV come from?”  
Connor, Murphy, and Rocco were all huddled around the card table, watching the news on a small black and white box TV set.  
“Swiped it from the Montoya family downstairs, told ‘em we’d bring it back.” Murphy’s eyes were glued to the screen as he spoke.  
Making your way across the room, you stood behind Connor’s chair as he lifted his hand up and linked his fingers with yours, also not bothering to look away from the news program.  
“That’s the guy who got us off for that shit with the Russians.” Murph pointed his half killed smoke at the black and white moving picture, which showed an aged man with long, slicked back locks addressing the press.  
“He’s gotta fuckin’ go, man.”  
Connor and Murphy both looked over at Rocco suddenly.  
“He’s a lia-fucking-bility. He knows too much!”  
“Absolutely not,” Connor scoffed.  
“He’s a good man, he’s not to be harmed, Roc.”  
You looked down at your feet while listening to the boys talk, over taken in an instant by how much you loved them.  
The truth was that it was likely you were all going to be caught, it was even more likely you may be killed, and it would be both tempting, and simple to take out the one man who probably had a very obvious idea about who was behind the violent vigilantism that was taking over South Boston. However the boys never let that thought enter their minds, you knew the thought had never even occurred to them until Rocco vocalized it.  
**  
Hours later, after Rocco had been sent to fetch food from the Chinese place down the street, and the four of you had eaten enough rice and chicken to maintain a small army, you found yourself laying in the dark, moon shining brightly above you through a filthy skylight, a dark haired, blue eyed Irishman contouring his body to yours.  
Connor and Rocco were up on the roof and had been for over an hour, obviously strategizing your next move or possibly your next target, all while you had laid down against the dried blood that stained your cotton sheets, clenching your eyes tightly closed, but never actually falling asleep.  
Murphy had joined you shortly after, not saying a single word, but laying down beside you, wrapping a strong arm gently around your waist, making sure to not directly touch either of the wounds still fresh in your sky.  
You laid there for what seemed like hours, thinking and counting the number of times Murph inhaled and exhaled. He hadn’t started his slow, murmured snore, which was always your signal that he had drifted off to sleep, so you knew he was lying there awake too.  
Carefully, and painfully, you rolled yourself onto your back, positioning yourself so that you could look at Murph.  
“What? You okay? What’s wrong?” Murph’s questions were full of concern as he obviously thought you were only moving because you were in too much pain.  
“I’m okay, I just… I wanted to look at you.”  
A small smile played across his lips as his eyes searched across your face.  
“Here I am.”  
“Stay here, okay?”  
“Askin’ me ta stay with ya is like begging the sun to rise each mornin’, Ry. It’s gonna happen, you’re just flatterin’ it by makin’ it think it has a choice in the matter.”  
Your eyes watered lightly as you gulped down the heated pit rising in your throat.  
“I love you, baby.” Your words came out cracked when you opened your mouth, giving away your attempt to not cry.  
Murph huffed lowly as if he couldn’t believe someone could ever be so taken with him.  
Murphy engulfed your mouth in his, layering his tongue over yours in a swift, fluid motion, washing his taste across your buds. His callused hands gripped your chin and laced his fingers with yours.  
Murphy always possessed the power to kiss you deep enough that you became lost, traveling through space and time, unaware of the existence of anything that wasn’t the two of you.  
Allowing your mouths to part ways, Murphy’s tongue took one more nip at your dried lips before planting a wet kiss against your neck, then your collarbone, then and the top of your left breast.  
Your stomach caved in as you inhaled deeply, watching Murphy slowly lower his body against your own. He took care to lick a tiny circle around your inverted bellybutton. A small shiver escaped you as the tip of Murph’s tongue traced a thin line down to the top of your jeans, quickly unbuttoning them and forcing them downwards.  
You groaned in pain as he pulled the denim from your hips, and he whispered a hushed apology against your thigh as he began kissing you there as well.  
Taking the time to nudge a small trail of freckles along your inner thigh with the tip of his nose, Murphy slowly descended between your spread legs.  
Anticipation getting the better of you, you arch your back and wince in pain as Murphy’s tongue first makes contact with your clit.  
“Stay still, baby. I’ll be gentle.”  
Laying his wounded arm across your hips, Murphy went to work in a slow and teasing fashion, lapping and sucking in all the right places.  
Quiet moans rolled over your lips as you gripped tightly to the sheet beneath you. You had never seen Murph take his time like this before. The twisting of his tongue was slow and rhythmic, teasing you and making you desperate for more.  
“God, Murphy…” Your breath was scarce and broken as Murph nipped the softest of bites against your engorged pearl.  
“Quiet, Darlin’, you want Rocco to hear ya?”  
“Baby, I need… I need more…”  
Murphy peered up at you from between your milky thighs, weary of what he may accidentally do.  
“Ry, I don’t want ta hurt-“  
“Please, anything…”  
Giving you a small nod, Murphy returned to his home between your thighs, licking our core and massaging your clit, making sure that your channel was absolute soaked before he proceeded any further.  
You whined hungrily as Murphy finally inserted two fingers past your entrance, wasting no time to push up and rub, instantly making contact with your g-spot and forcing you to see stars.  
“Oh my god.”  
You chewed your bottom lip as you looked down at the gorgeous site that was Murphy devouring your lush center.  
Rolling his wrist against you, Murphy slowly pushed in a third finger, spreading your ached inner walls and rubbing that inner hot spot that he always found so well.  
His lips kissed and pushed against the gathering of nerves that sat perked at the top of your sex, making you call out his name much louder than you had intended.  
Although the pain seared from your stomach, you couldn’t stop yourself from trying to roll your hips against Murphy’s face, trying to aid him in the climactic end that you could almost taste.  
“Be good, sweetheart. Let me take care of it, alright?” Murphy gently scolded you for trying to participate more than he wanted you to.  
Your breath heaved from your chest as you tried your best to steady your anxiousness and relax; desperately fighting the urge to ride Murphy’s erect cock which was currently pressed against your calf.  
“Murph, please, I just-“  
“No.” Murph cut you off abruptly.  
“I’m fine, I swear… Please, I’ll do anything…”  
You bit your bottom lip and did your best try at puppy dog eyes as you gave your hips the smallest jut forward towards him.  
“Rylee, I can’t hurt you.”  
“Murph, I need you, I need to feel you… Please?”  
“Slow, okay?”  
You nodded gratefully as Murphy slowly raised his body above you, bending down one more time to plant the smallest, lightest of kisses against your bloody bandage that sat across your side.  
Being sure to not put his body weight on his left arm, Murphy wiggled his hips free of their denim prison and carefully lined up his throbbed erection with your entrance.  
Torturously slow, Murphy glided himself inside of you. The two of you locked eyes in the dark room, barley catching glimpses of each other’s faces by moonlight.  
A delicious groan erupted from deep within Murphy’s chest as he took a second to enjoy what you knew he had wanted so badly.  
“Jesus…”  
Pulling his hips back, Murphy began fucking you the slowest, most passionate way you had ever seen him. The two of you rarely had the patience to take such time, always anxious to feel everything the other had to offer; however, in your current physical state, the two of you were left with little other option.  
His jaw hanging slack and his breathing labored, Murphy rolled his hips between your legs, pushing and pulling his cock within your convulsing walls; whispering your name over and over in hushed tones.  
Pain pulled from the wound in your abdomen but that was not enough for you to ask Murph to stop; nothing in the world was enough for that, not in this moment.  
“Baby, don’t stop…Ah, Murph…please don’t stop.”  
“Never, Darlin’.”  
Pulling and teasing your inner nerves, you felt the ominous build up creep through your gut and you knew, abruptly, just how close you actually were.  
“God, Murph, I love you. “ Your back arched out of control and Murphy penetrated you once more. “I’m close, baby… I love you so fucking much.”  
Lowering himself against you, putting weight on his injured arm, was a sacrifice Murphy was willing to make to plant a fast open mouthed kiss against your lips.  
“I love you… I love ya too.” His thickly accented words were escaping between labored, heavy breaths.  
“Come with me, baby… I need to feel it,” you begged, raising a hand up to hold the side of Murphy’s sweaty face.  
“I’m going to come, Ry. Shit, shit… I’m close.”  
Small droplets of labor dripped form the end of Murphy’s nose as he continued to fuck you, all of his weight on a single arm, both of you so hungry to see the other reach their release.  
You moaned and thrust your hips up desperately; forcing your pelvis to slide up and down Murphy’s cock at the speed you needed in your final moments.  
“Fuck, yes!”  
Giving way to his undying temptation, Murphy finally threw his hips forward, unable to control himself any longer. Snapping his hips back and fourth in a vigor that you both craved; the two of you both came in an instant.  
Your orgasm rolled down your spine in a delicious wave as you clung to Murphy’s broad shoulders. Heaving heavily, as if he had never been more winded in his life, Murphy slipped out and collapsed on the mattress beside you, fighting for air as his body still twitched uncontrollably from his climax.  
“I love you, Murphy MacManus.” A smile lazily formed across your cheeks as you threw a hand up into your hair, feeling dizzy as you came down off of your physical high.  
“Aye, you little shit… forcing me to fuck you like you wanted.”  
You huffed out a small laugh instead of a retort, unable to form words as your vision started to blur.  
“I’m so tired…”  
“Makes sense, Babe… Ry? Rylee?”  
Murphy’s voice was far away and you were too tired to answer. You allowed your eyes to slip closed just as you felt Murphy rise up from the mattress.  
“Fuck! Fuck, Rylee! Baby, stay with me!”  
Distant footsteps echoed through your subconscious followed by the final words you heard Murph utter: “Shit! Connor! Con, she’s bleeding!”

**  
“Miss Wood, do you remember how you were injured?” The doctor tied off your stitches and began gathering up his tools from the bed.  
You did. You remembered everything the moment he had said you were shot. You knew what had happened. Besides the specifics of how you had ended up in the emergency room with Doc as your companion, you knew exactly what had happened to you.  
“No… I… I don’t. I’m sorry.”  
“It’s alright, it’s common when someone is injured traumatically. If your memory does start to return though, let me know. I have several questions.”  
“What questions?” You looked up at him as he stood from his chair.  
“Well who shot you, obviously, but I’m fairly curious as to why your exit wound seems to have been burned and cauterized. Someone seems to have tried to save you from a trip to the ER. However, you had quite a bit of internal bleeding, we had to do emergency surgery to stop it, but with the proper recovery I think you’ll be fine. ”  
The stranger MD raised a curious eyebrow to you as if he were waiting for an answer that wouldn’t come.  
“I don’t know.”  
“Okay, well I re-stitched you, stay in bed alright? If you move too much those things will pop right out again.”  
“Will do, Doc.”  
Your mind was racing with anticipation and curiosity about why you had been dropped off here and where the fuck the boys were.  
Just as the doctor switched the lights back off and opened the door to walk back out into the florescent hallway, the same nurse from earlier walked quickly around the corner, handing the doctor a single slip of paper before muttering something to him, taking a fast glance at you, then jogging back down the hallway.  
“Um, Miss Wood?”  
“Yeah?” You answered in the same ominous tone he had used in addressing you.  
He paused, still staring at the paper the nurse had handed him before actually telling you what it said.  
“We got your blood work back, we couldn’t run it when you first arrived, you were wheeled directly into surgery, but, uh, we just got it back…”  
The doctor’s voice stopped again before the punch line.  
“Yes?”  
“Were you aware that you’re pregnant?”


	32. The Heartbeat

Chapter Thirty-Two

“I’m sorry?”  
Your chest had suddenly seized up as your mind ran wild.  
“Your blood work is unmistakable…”  
“You’re sure?”  
Your eyes searched the doctor’s face while he examined the piece of paper holding your blood work.  
“Yes, Miss Wood. You are without a doubt pregnant.”  
“How… Um, how long?”  
Your voice broke while you struggled to swallow a large lump that had gathered in your throat.  
“I’m not sure, we can’t tell that from the blood work. I’ll roll an ultrasound machine in and we can measure the fetus, get you a due date and a time line from conception.”  
For the first time since the nurse had handed him the paper, the doctor looked up at you. Unable to hold his gaze you instantly looked down at your own lap, giving him a small nod in response.  
“Alright, I’ll go grab that…and some water.”  
You gave the smallest of laughs as the man offered something he thought might bring you a bit of comfort before snapping the door closed behind him; leaving you alone in a dark room.  
The heart monitor beeped dully behind you as you let your head fall back onto the pillow, your eyes searching a black ceiling in desperation.  
The number of questions that plagued your mind was endless as you felt tears well within your eyes.  
The idea of having a baby, let alone having one now, was terrifying. You had never been the girl who counted down the days until marriage and children, and yet here you were, in love, and carrying a child.  
If the story were as simple as that, perhaps you would have been overjoyed at the news; however the fact was that you would forever remember this moment. The moment in which a doctor told you that you’d be a mother after he stitched together your gunshot wound, then he proceeded to leave you alone in the dark, without either possible father by your side.  
If this news had arrived a month ago, that would have been full of issues and questions all on it’s own: ‘Whose baby am I carrying?’ or ‘How will this effect the three of ours relationship?’  
But now, after Connor had jumped from the roof, after Murphy had watched you shoot a man in a strip club, after all of you had assassinated a room full of men before being attacked by an elderly man with a cigar; this baby just threw a wrench into a very mission from god.  
“You just gummed up the works, kid. What are your fathers going to say?”  
A tear rolled down your pale cheek as you weakly laughed at your own half-hearted joke.  
**  
The front wheel of your chair shook and squeaked as a new nurse pushed you down the fluorescent hallway. The doctor who had changed your life forever with a simple question had since abandoned you after your ultrasound, and left you in the care of a new stranger once his shift had ended.   
This new man had given you a complementary bottle of prenatal vitamins and a black and white, fuzzy photo of a small, bean shaped blob which was currently growing inside of your uterus; before releasing you back out into the wild.  
The heartbeat you’d heard, as that wand made contact with your flat stomach, was a sound that you would remember for the rest of your life. The picture on the screen was a lot of blurs and movement, but that sound, that sound was unmistakable.  
Doc was asleep in a chair in the waiting room, his mouth slack and open, his glasses askew, and you were suddenly overcome with affection for the old man. God knows how long he had been awaiting your release, and there he was, asleep and unmoving, never leaving his post.  
“Sir?” The nurse whose name you hadn’t bothered to remember spoke up, while Doc remained within his slumber.  
“Sir?”  
“Hey, Doc!” Your voice was booming and gathered the attention of several other visitors in the hallow room.  
The grey haired man shook awake with a start before giving you a wide smile.  
“Darlin’ you feelin’ fit then?”  
“I’m ready to get the hell out of this death trap.”  
You smiled before looking upwards at a scowling nurse who wasted no time in rolling her eyes at you.  
“No offense.”  
Doc made no attempt to hide his belly laugh before standing up and taking the reins of your chair from the annoyed medical worker.  
Not even saying goodbye, the nurse handed you your release paper work before turning around and walking back down the hall.  
Wide sliding doors opened up before you as Doc pushed you outside. A chilled wind whipped through your hair as you blinked harshly under the bright sunlight.  
“Where are Connor and Murphy?” You looked up at Doc who patted the top of your brunette head kindly as he made his way through the parking lot.  
“Thought we’d at least make it to the car first, love.”  
You sighed weakly, gripping tightly to the bottle of vitamins tucked beneath your coat.  
“I believe their home, Rylee. They called me, didn’t they? Told me ta come and get ya, take ya to the hospital. You were bleedin’ somethin’ fierce. I brought ya in, said you were shot by mistake while you were walkin’ down the street… You see there was a massive shooting over in a suburb down the way.”  
You knew that Doc knew what had happened, how could he not? He was a sweet man, but far from a naive one. The question of his trustworthiness, however, never crossed your mind.  
“Luckily, your memory is so shook up, you can’t remember what happened or what the shooters may o’ looked like....” Doc’s voice trailed off as he smiled down at you kindly.  
He parked your wheel chair next to his Oldsmobile before assisting you inside.  
**  
“Should I help you inside, my dear?”  
Doc’s car hummed up to the curb as he stopped in front of your apartment building.  
“No, I’m fine, really. Thank you, Doc. You’re too good to me.”  
“’T’s nothin’, love. You give me a call when you’re ready to come back to work. You let that gut of yours heal right up, understand?” Doc directed you, pointing a finger at you.  
“Yes, sir.”   
You waved Doc goodbye as the auburn sedan pulled away from the sidewalk, leaving you standing, looking forward at the building’s entrance. You were terrified to walk in, how in the hell were you supposed to tell them? How were you supposed to admit that their futures were forever changed?  
You were more scared of what would happen next between the three of you. Would this baby do the unthinkable? Would it divide Connor and Murphy? Would the paternity of your child depend on which brother stayed and which left?  
You felt sick as your mind raced. The thought of either of them leaving made you nauseas, the idea that the three of you may go your separate ways was unbearable, but Murph? You knew that you couldn’t be without him and you suddenly felt an insane need to keep him close, to hold him to your chest and never let him go.  
Entering the building, which constantly smelled of bad eggs and stale water, was one of the hardest things you had ever done. Pushing the ‘up’ arrow in the lift took more effort than you could have ever imagined. The metal grate opening to your floor was ominous and you found yourself staring blankly at the steel side pull door that opened up into the loft in which you called home.   
Before you could muster the guts to open it, the door began to move from the other side as someone made to exit.  
Murphy MacManus looked directly into your eyes as he dropped a rosary around his pale, tattooed neck.  
“Baby…” His voice dropped as his eyes searched you up and down once.  
He pulled you in for a hug, his arm wrapping tightly behind your neck. Your breath caught in your throat, your ears swearing that you heard the shake of vitamins in your pocket.  
“Hi.” Your voice was meek and timid and Murphy took note of it.  
“Hey, you okay? I wanted to come, I wanted to so fuckin’ bad, babe. We’re just on the lamb now and-“  
“I know, it’s fine, I know that you couldn’t.” You cut him off as you ran a stray hand through your hair.  
“Every cop in the city is lookin’ for whoever shot up those gangsters.”  
“Murph, I know.”  
Murphy’s gaze searched your face, trying to decipher what it was your mind was thinking.  
“Get in here, I was gonna run for some decent coffee, a couple o’ bagels. Connor’s hungry.”  
“When is he not?” You groaned as you walked forward, holding your side as Murphy helped you over to a chair in the side of the room.  
“You alright, Ry? You scared the shit out of me, ya know that?”  
You shook your coat off of your shoulders before touching the palm of your hand to Murphy’s furry cheek as he crouched down in front of you.  
“I’m sorry.”  
Pierced blue eyes seemed to look clean through you and you suddenly felt hot tears gush to your eyes.  
“Oh, god. Baby, what’s wrong? Is it the pain? Roc’s got some meds he stole from that druggie ex of his…”  
“No, Murph, I’m fine, really. I’m sorry… I just, I just love you, that’s all.”  
Murphy looked at you while raising a single eyebrow.  
“That’s it? You’re crying because you love me? It’s that big of a burden for you?”  
You knew he was kidding but you didn’t laugh, you just stared at him with a longing that your heart felt and your face couldn’t hide.  
“No… It’s the easiest thing that I’ve ever done.”   
Murphy bit his lip and you knew he was trying desperately to read his mind like he usually could; yet somehow he was coming up blank.  
“Come ‘ere.”  
Raising up off to his knees, he pulled you into his neck, engulfing you in his natural, musky scent that always made you feel so at home.  
“I love you, and you’re mine. You hear me?”  
Murph’s whispers warmed your inner ear and brought you to bury your face deeper into the crook of his neck.  
“Always.”  
“Rylee? Christ!”  
You heard heavy footsteps echoing off the concrete walls as you looked up from Murphy’s shoulder.  
Connor had jumped the last four steps that lead down from the rooftop, and was rushing to your side.  
Dropping to his knees as if he were sliding into home plate, Connor’s callused hands gripped either side of your face, his eyes locking onto yours.  
“They released you? What did they say? Are you okay?”  
The thickly accented questions hit your ears in waves, and the only thing you could think was how happy you were to see the boys both looking up at you; and how scared you were that this may be one of the last times it happened.  
“I’ll live. They had to do some surgery, I had a lot of internal bleeding.”  
“I can’t believe I hurt you like that, I was so fuckin’ stupid…” Murphy looked down at his feet, obviously feeling a great deal of guilt over your last physical encounter.   
“Murph, I think it had more to do with the bullet tearing through my abdomen than the sex.”  
“Although the sex didn’t fuckin’ help.” Connor’s palm made contact with the back of Murphy’s head as he scolded his brother for what you were sure was not the first time since your ER visit.  
You gave a huffed laugh from deep in your throat before asking the question you had been wondering since the moment you woke up in a hospital bed.   
“What happened to you two in the past two days? Did you just lay low?”  
“You would fuckin’ think we should have, wouldn’t you?!” Rocco had descended the steps from the rooftop and his booming voice bounced from wall to wall around the concrete box that was your loft.  
“Fuckin’ shut it, Roc.” Connor growled over his shoulder at the Italian man without turning around to actually look at him.  
“Girls, are we fighting?” You tested the hostile waters with a light tease, only to have your humor ignored.  
“These two mother fuckers wanted to go to church, Rylee! Church! Can you believe that shit?” Rocco yelled at you as if you had picked up the phone and reminded them that they might be late for service.  
“Yeah, they always go to church. God’s the only thing they love more than me…” Your voice dropped off as you gave a side-glance to Murph with one raised eyebrow, only to watch him grin broadly at you.  
“Well, God and bacon. I mean, Rylee, I appreciate you fucking me like it’s going out of style, but can sex really put a price on bacon?”  
Connor gave way to a gutted laugh before looking up at Rocco from where he was crouched on the floor, immediately breaking the tension as Roc too puffed out a chuckle.  
“Alright, maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised by the damn church thing, but who the fuck else was at the church, Con? Huh? You wanna tell her who else was there?”  
You suddenly felt as if you were annoyingly left out of the loop and caught between two children dancing around an incident that nobody wanted to confess to mother.  
Exhaling deeply, Murph looked up at you before rising to his feet.  
“Smecker was there, the cop who’s lookin’ fer us. He was in the fuckin’ confessional.”  
“I’m sorry, he was what?!” Yelling made your side ache and you instantly applied pressure with your left palm before continuing with your outrage.  
“Are you fucking kidding me? What the hell happened?”  
“I fuckin’ went in there to take care of it, Ry, cause these two pricks-“  
“Take care of it!” Connor’s accent came out full force as he once again was booming at Rocco.  
“He went in there to kill the priest, Ry!”  
Your eyes darted from the Irish man to the Italian one, back and fourth as they each exchanged their sides of the story, eventually leading you to what actually happened.  
“I wasn’t gonna kill him! Just make sure he told the cop what we needed him to think.”  
“You don’t point a gun at a holy man, Roc, you just don’t fuckin’ do it!”  
“Did he fuckin’ say what I wanted him to say, or not?” Rocco waved his hands wildly as he tried to justify his actions for what you were sure was the umpteenth time today.  
“Yeah, he did… After Connor ran into the other confessional and pointed a fuckin’ gun at you, Roc.” Murphy, still crouched down and holding your hand, looked up and laughed at the two men bickering.  
“You pointed a gun at Roc?” The surprise in your voice was abrupt.  
“How in the hell are you more shocked by that, than by him threatening to kill a priest?” Connor turned to look down at you as if you were even more unhinged than Rocco.  
“I’m not all churchy, Con.”  
“Yeah, Con, she really isn’t all churchy.”  
You giggled quietly as Murphy chimed in, forcing Connor to roll his eyes at your sarcasm and focus his anger back at Rocco.  
“I swear to god, Roc, I ever catch you doin’ anythin’ like that again-“  
“We have been over this, I won’t do it again or whatever, but the point of all of this, is that he’s on our side now, right?” Rocco’s last statement fell flat and your jaw dropped.  
“I’m sorry? What?”  
Murphy joined Connor in standing straight up before slowly nodding in answer to your question.  
“He thinks we’re right, babe. He told the priest. He thinks these men deserve to die. He’s a man of the law, and yet he knows that the judicial system only goes so fuckin’ far.” Murphy chewed the side of his lip, awaiting your reaction.  
“He told the priest this?”  
“Yes.”  
“In the confessional?”  
“A huh.”  
“While Rocco was pointing a gun at the priest?”  
“Yep.”  
“And while Connor was pointing a gun at Rocco.”  
“You got it.” Murphy answered your last statement, even though you had stopped questioning and were just repeating the facts to better register them in your boggled mind.   
“So, did you guys just follow him home and have this chat?”  
There were still missing pieces to the puzzle and your frustration at not knowing where they all fit was growing.   
“Nah, we just called him.”  
“What?”  
Your skin suddenly burned from head to toe and you had never felt the need to flee so quickly from any given place in your life. How could they have so casually dialed up the one man who could have thrown them all in some dark pit where daylight was a distant memory?  
“He gave us his card after that bit with the Russians.” Murphy’s answer was so matter of fact that you shook your head slightly back and forth in awe.  
“I don’t mean how did you call him, I mean, why in the hell would you do that? What if his little epiphany didn’t take? What if you just made his weekend by giving him a heads up on who the hell he should be arresting this evening?”  
“Ry, he already knew it was us…” Connor had leaned his back against the wall as he pulled a smoke from his pocket and lit it with his zippo.  
This time you didn’t even bother asking, but instead waited for one of the three men to enlighten you.  
“He picked up my finger, from the shoot out. It was in the bushes… Fucker ran it for prints. I came up, and he remembered me from when I brought the guys their shit in jail.”  
“Jesus…” Your hands ran up through your hair. Between this and your new bun in the oven, you didn’t think you could possibly survive another informational blow for the day.  
“Darlin’ it’s fine.” Connor took a long drag while talking through clenched teeth, which held his cigarette in place. “We told him about that old bastard who shot all of us, he couldn’t believe it; said he was sure it had been us against six guys.”  
Murphy gave a loud exhale and motioned for his brother to hand him a smoke before Connor continued speaking.  
“We told him we’re plannin’ on hittin’ Yakavetta’s house. Get him right where they least expect it.”  
You eyed Rocco to gage his emotions. You knew that Rocco had been working for Yakavetta since he was 18, and you knew that this man had set him up to die in a shoot out that he was sickly unprepared for.  
“A catholic hold-up, a FBI confession, and a plan to take down a Mafioso… you boys have been busy.”  
“Haven’t we now? And you were just lazing about in bed, weren’t you?” Connor’s tease came with the offer of his half killed cigarette, something that you had never once refused.  
Taking the slightly damp filter and placing it between your parted lips, you were suddenly plagued with a wave of nausea. You were pregnant, and even with all this information making your head swim, you still were having trouble thinking of much else.  
You pulled the smoke from your lips and handed it back to Connor, only to receive an extremely puzzled look.  
“I just, I don’t want one right now. That’s all.”  
Connor looked through you and you knew in an instant that he could read your lie as if it were tattooed across your forehead.  
“Baby?” Breaking eye contact with Connor, you touched Murphy’s hand to draw his attention.  
“Hmm?”  
“I’m starved and-“  
“Yeah, I’m on it. I was headin’ that way, I just got sidetracked.” Murphy bent down over you and planted a warm kiss against your forehead, forcing you to release a smile that surprised you.  
Grabbing his black pea coat and rosary off of the hook near the door, Murphy waved for Roc to join him, “Come on then, I think you and Con could use with a few minutes of not-together time.”  
“Fuckin’ right?” Rocco shot Connor an annoyed look before following Murphy out the door.  
You leaned forward as the metal door slid shut, resting your face in the palms of your hands; the darkness helping only slightly with your now pounding headache.  
“Did the Doc say anythin’ else?”  
Your face quickly left your hands as you looked up at Connor abruptly. You knew he could read you, but how the hell did he know that?  
“What? Like what else?”  
“Like askin’ how you got shot? Or why you have an iron sized burn on yer back?” Connor took a long drag while raising a curious eyebrow at your behavior.  
“Oh, yeah. He asked, I just said I didn’t remember, eventually they just released me. Doc claimed he found me on the road, a wounded bystander of a suburban shootout.”  
“Old man is always surprising’ me.” Connor cracked the knuckles on his right hand as he moved to put out his smoke in the ashtray that sat dead center on the card table.  
“Let me see then?”  
“Con…”  
“Come on, I wanna look, see how I should stitch next time.”  
“You think you’ll magically know how to do stitches just by looking at them?” You snorted in a mocking disbelief.  
“I am an excellent observer.”  
“I think you’re full of shit and just want to get my shirt off.”  
You smiled high as you teased Connor, slowly pulling your shirt up and over your ribs.  
“Baby, you and I both know that it takes me very little to get your shirt off… What was it? Two sips of beer, four cigarettes, and an invitation to an alleyway?”  
You rolled your eyes playfully as Connor’s well worn hands assisted you in pulling the cotton tee over your shoulders and head, leaving you resting against the back of the chair, displaying only your bra and jeans.  
“Hey! I object to that, if I remember correctly, I never actually removed my shirt.”  
Connor cracked a laugh that made his chest flex beneath his tight black t-shirt as he leaned down on the floor, closely examining your wound after gently peeling back your bandage.   
“You’re right. My mistake. I fucked you against a brick wall, but you kept your shirt on, because you’re a lady.” Connor looked up at you through long eyelashes as he rested a thick forearm against your thigh.  
“Damn straight.”  
Connor’s lips dropped down from the quick smile he had given you and his hazel eyes were once again searching your face.  
“Where are you at?” His voice was calm with a hint of concern.  
“I’m here, I’m always here with you.” Your attempt at making light of your obvious worry was a hit and a miss.  
“No. You’re miles away. What are you thinking about?”  
“I’m just tired, Con…” You ran a hand through the length of your hair once again before dropping it down and twirling a curl around your index finger.  
“It’s more than that, you only ever play with your hair when you’re uneasy.”  
Dropping your hands down to your lap you let out a long and loud exhale of air.  
“Do you just sit around taking notes on all of my tells?”  
Your voice was annoyed but Connor forgave it without hesitation.  
“Maybe; why do you think I can always beat you at poker?”  
“Maybe because you were a young little shit in Ireland who hustled people? Meanwhile I was the golden girl in Salt Lake who had never played a card game beyond Go Fish?”  
“No, I’m gonna go with the ‘I can read you like a book’ thing…” Connor’s voice was wistful as he playfully looked up at the ceiling, pretending to weigh his options.  
“I love you, Connor.”  
The words escaped your breath before you could possibly catch them. Watching him tease and play with you was something you were going to miss for the rest of your life. You were so frightened that this pregnancy would be the end of your relationship with the boys; knowing full well that abandoning their religious vendetta was simply not an option.  
Slowly shifting his weight to his knees, Connor raised himself up, palm cupping the back of your neck, and kissed you hard enough to make your head swim.  
The taste of his recently brushed teeth with the combination of his freshly finished smoke had become your favorite flavor as your tongue wrapped and caressed his. Lips moving waves over each other, each of you fighting for the shared air between you, as your noses made and broke contact, was a place you could have stayed in for the rest of your life.  
Finally pulling away and planting one last quick peck on the tip of your nose, Connor fell back against his feet and clutched your hands in his.  
“You gonna talk to me?”   
“Take me to bed?”  
Obviously ignoring the question, you allowed Connor to stand and pull you up from your chair.  
“As you wish, darlin’.”  
Leading you gently by the hand, Connor helped you down onto the two mattresses pushed together on the concrete floor.  
Falling backwards and kicking off your boots, you readied yourself for sleep by assuming the fetal position.  
“So when are we hitting Yakavetta’s place?” You yawned half way through your sentence and Connor rolled his eyes as he stood above you.  
“We’re not hittin’ shit, babe. You’re gonna stay right where your pretty ass is layin’.”  
Leaning up on one elbow you scowled.  
“I’m not letting you guys go by yourselves.”  
“Rylee, you were shot.” Connor scoffed as if he were explaining something simple to a child who found the subject complex.  
“Yeah, and I wasn’t the only one. If you’re going then I’m going.”  
“Can we fight about this and have me win later? You should probably get some rest.”  
Groaning loudly with frustration, you fell backwards onto the mattress once more, reaching instinctively for the comforter blanket that wasn’t there.  
“Con, where’s the comforter?”  
“Aye, Murph spilled his beer on it last night, I made Roc take it down to the laundry room in the basement. It’s in the rise cycle, I’d assume.”  
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help yourself with the smile that formed across your lips. Murphy spilling his beer and having Connor yell at him was exactly the kind of thing that always kept him so dear to you.  
“Here, lay back and I’ll cover you with your coat.”  
Connor turned back towards the card table and chairs, and before your protest left your throat, he had already gripped the black jacket in his fist and pulled it off the surface. The ominous, nearly slow motion, sound of that pill bottle hitting the floor was just as loud as a gunshot to your ears.  
Jumping to your feet too fast, you didn’t have time to wince at the pain in your side as you all but ran towards Connor.  
“Con! Don’t! I’ll get-“ You instantly gave up half way through your attempt at seizing the bottle from Connor’s hand as he gave you a startled look.  
“What are ya doin’? Get in bed, I’ll get ya your pain…”  
Connor had turned the label around and looked down, only to lose his voice mid-word while reading the prenatal vitamin bottle.  
“Connor, I…” You had started to speak but had no words.  
This was it. This was the moment that would define the rest of your life, and you felt like you suddenly couldn’t see straight.  
“Are you…?” Connor looked up at you with his eyebrows raised and his eyes wilder than you ever seen them. His jaw lay slightly ajar, as his chest heaved with sudden, heavy breaths.  
You opened your mouth and nothing came out. You didn’t know what to say, but you knew what you were afraid to admit to.  
The three of you had never really discussed this painfully obvious scenario that may have struck you at anytime. Murphy was the only one of the three of you who had ever even brought up having a baby before, and it was slightly in jest, and he was assuming the baby would be his, when in reality, there was no way to tell who the actual father was until after birth.  
“Rylee! Are you fuckin’ pregnant?!” Connor’s voice boomed around the studio apartment and you closed your eyes slowly as a tear slipped beneath your heavy lids.  
“Oh my god!”   
Without looking, you heard Connor drop the bottle of vitamins on the floor and pace back to the table. Your eyes fluttered open in time to see him grab his smokes from the table and fish in the pocket of his jeans for a lighter.  
You took a loud sniffle before trying once again to speak.  
“Connor, I know this is scary-“  
“How long have you known about this? Connor sucked hard at the filter of his cigarette, all but downing half of the tobacco in a single breath.  
“Since this morning. They ran a blood test when they emitted me, then they told me I was pregnant. Con, I would have told you earlier if I had known!”  
“Holy shit… Holy shit.” Connor had taken to pacing back in fourth between the table and the door, smoking furiously and having just as hard of a time speaking as you were.  
“How… How far along are you?”  
Connor stopped his repetition walking mid-step and looked at you dead in the eye.  
You hands felt in the back pocket of your jeans, fishing for the sonogram photo that you had stashed in there; the one that showed the grey blob that was only slightly more distinguishable than the rest of the darker grey blobs.  
Taking two timid steps forward, you handed Connor the thin photo before taking another step backwards.   
His eyes leaving you to look down at what you handed him, Connor’s head tilted to the side before whispering more obscenities under his breath.  
Connor’s body gave into defeat as he felt backwards into a chair below him. Elbows resting on his knees, Connor leaned forward, staring blankly at the photo between his fingers.  
“I’m only seven weeks…” The uneasy tension in your voice was unmistakable but Connor didn’t bother himself to look up at you.  
“How did you, uh… How could you not know?”  
You knew instantly that that was Connor’s awkward attempt at asking you about your menstrual cycle, and a smile that lasted less than a second appeared and disappeared.  
“I’ve never been regular, ever since I was a teenager… I mean, I never really thought much about skipping a month or two.”  
“Okay.” Connor was more speaking to himself than he was to you. Assuring himself to breathe and not to panic with a single word.  
Softly and carefully, Connor placed the fetal photo on the table before reaching for yet another cigarette from his nearly empty pack. Reaching upward, he offered you the last smoke sitting in the cardboard box only to have you shake your head gently, no.  
“Oh, fuck. Right. That’s why ya, um, you didn’t want one earlier either.”  
Connor was still struggle to form complete sentences without fractures riddled with ‘Ums and Uhs’.  
“I wasn’t planning this, you know? I didn’t mean for this to happen, and besides, Connor, it’s not like I was fuckin’ myself for the past year! I can’t get myself fucking pregnant!”  
Your intimidation had suddenly been replaced with anger and defense, and Connor quickly stood up to meet you face to face.  
“Did ya hear me blamin’ ya? Did ya hear me askin’ ya how the hell you could let this happen? Fuckin’ no! So calm your shit down!”  
The irony of Connor screaming at you, demanding that you be the one to calm down, was not registering in his obviously racing mind.  
“Calm down? Seriously? Connor! I’m going to be a mother! I am going to be raising a child!”  
“You?”  
“Yes! Me? Turns out if you get pregnant, they expect you to raise the thing that crawled out of you.” You continued to hold tightly to your side, applying pressure in an attempt to relieve the pain of yelling.  
“Just you? Like this doesn’t affect me at all? As if it doesn’t affect Murph?”  
“Only if you want it to… I mean, I guess you have a lot of questions to ask yourself.”  
“Like what? What questions do you assume I have?”  
Connor’s voice had reached a level that made the hair on your neck stand at attention.  
“I don’t know, how about the question of weather or not you’re willing to stop murdering people to be a father!”   
Your voice matched Connor’s in volume; bringing back a slight memory of the night Connor and you had been in a heated argument over a woman named Sandy.  
“That’s not a question! Trust me, the question of ‘is the woman I love carrying my or my twin brother’s baby?’ is plaguing me long before the ‘should I still murder scum bags?’ question.”  
You bit your bottom lip and looked down at your feet. He had said it out loud; the very question that you had feared would tear the three of you apart beyond repair.  
“Does it matter?”  
Your eyes searched Connor’s face, quickly memorizing every hint of doubt his face revealed.  
“I… I don’t know. No? I guess… Maybe it doesn’t.” Connor linked his fingers and held his hands behind his neck as he spoke.  
“I don’t want this to rip you and Murphy apart, God, Connor that is the last thing in the world that I would ever want.”  
“You’re not gonna tear us apart, Ry. What part of ‘we’re a family’ do you not understand?”  
“Families are not indestructible, Connor! Families get torn apart daily! Quite a few of them over a situation closely resembling ours, actually… minus the murder thing.”  
You glanced up into Connor’s eyes, expecting him to fall into his usual relaxed manner of laughing, but were let down.  
“Why are you always trying to leave? Do you know that we have never once tried to kick you out, threatened to leave you, or told you that our feelings for you were some how conditional? Can you say the same ‘bout us?”  
Connor’s voice still resembled anger, but had lost its boom.  
You were unsure why you were constantly offering up opportunities to leave; almost as if you didn’t want to be shocked by a surprise blow abandonment.  
“Is it you who doesn’t want to be here?” Connor’s question was quiet, almost as if he truly feared whatever your answer may be.  
“No. It’s not that. It could never be that, Con.” You felt tears well up in your eyes as you braved a look into Connor’s face. “I love you, I love Murphy. My feelings for the two of you are the only things I have ever been sure of.”  
“Then do me a favor?”  
“Hmm?” Your response was murmured as you sniffed into your forearm.  
“Stop tryin’ to find an escape route, especially if ya don’t fuckin’ want one?”  
You felt hot tears leak from your eyes and run down your pale cheeks.  
“Don’t do that…Please?”  
Connor approached you slowly, his fingers finding your still bare stomach, the tips of his digits ghosting against your sensitive wound before wrapping around your hips. You couldn’t stop yourself from flinching at his touch, slightly taken back by the affection.  
“I’ve never had anything worth losing before.”  
Your words came out muffled as you buried your face shamelessly into Connor’s chest.  
“You and Murphy are the only people I wanted to stay with, and I’m terrified that the day will come when you don’t feel the same way.”  
His heaving chest beneath you, Connor sighed before placing his hand against the back of your head, his chin perched at the top.   
“Stop worryin’ bout them; the future us. We got enough shit on our own plates to deal with, don’t ya think? Ry, I’m not gonna make promises I can’t keep; nobody ever knows what’s to come, I will tell ya though, God’s honest is that I can’t see myself without you and Murph. You two assholes are a part of me, you’re who I am, and I don’t know if I can or can’t live without you, but I sure as shit don’t wanna fide out.”  
You finally lifted your face from Connor’ chest, taking in fresh air.  
“We do have a lot on our plates…”  
Connor raised an eyebrow while looking down at you, a small smirk placing on his chapped lips.  
“Ya fuckin’ think, do ya? We have got a Mafioso ta take down, don’t we? Not to mention, sounds like we gotta do some crib shoppin’ in the future.”  
You wiped tears off of your cheeks with the back of your hand while Connor’s fingers played lightly up and down your bare spine.  
“How’s that burn doin’?”  
His face contoured to concern as he lightly brushed against where he and forced an iron onto your skin.  
“It’s fine, better than the bullet wound, although I have to say that the iron actually did hurt more…”  
Connor quickly nodded in agreement, “Aye, who knows if it was fuckin’ adrenaline or what, but the bullet through my thigh didn’t hurt near as fuckin’ bad as Rocco cauterizin’ it.”  
“I think you took it like a man, Con.”  
You grinned wide enough to win Connor’s nose nuzzled down against your collarbone.  
“What do you think Murph’s gonna say?”  
There was no need to vocalize what you were speaking of, you had no doubt that Connor hadn’t stopped thinking about the baby in your uterus since you handed him that ultrasound photo.  
“He’ll be happy, you’ll be happy, I’ll be happy, but most of all, that baby will be happy. I have no idea when or how, but God has a way of settling things into their place.”  
Connor placed a soft kiss in the crook of your neck right as you realized an obvious fight you were sure to lose.  
“Oh he’s gonna be catholic isn’t he?”  
Connor pulled away from your neck and looked down at you in bemusement.  
“We’re calling ‘it’ a ‘he’ now?”  
“Sure, why not? He, she, whatever; you and Murph are gonna make him a catholic though huh?”  
Connor laughed as you wrinkled your nose in playful disgust.  
“We are… ‘S what you get, fuckin’ Catholic boys, Rylee. It’s a risk you run.”  
“I’m sorry that the thought of what religion our future children may be didn’t cross my mind when I met the sexy Irishman in the bar.”  
“Well that was your mistake now, wasn’t it?”  
You rolled your eyes as Connor cradled your bare hips in his hands.  
“Sorry, Darlin’, his mother may be a suburban godless heathen, but his father…s; his fathers are Irish, and they’re Catholics, as is he.”  
You looked down at your feet, your bare toes just inches from Connor’s boots, and for the first time since you had awoken this morning, you felt a warm relief build in your stomach. He had said ‘fathers’ and even though you knew the time would eventually come when the three of you would have to find out the truth, or make a decision of some kind, Connor’s small gesture gave you hope that the three of you, your family, could over come it.  
“Kiss me?”  
Your thoughts swam and the sudden realization that you weren’t going to raise this child alone over took you.  
Connor’s eyes met yours and without hesitation he moved his firm jaw towards you, ducking to connect your lips with his own.  
The flavor of his mouth tasted even sweeter than before; his tongue over powering yours in a battle where there could be no loser. You gasped for air between small breaks of your lips as your fists moved upwards to ball up around Connor’s dirty blonde hair.  
Tugging at his locks, Connor growled against your mouth. You felt bumps of sudden arousal rise from his tanned skin as two firm hands gripped the bottom of your ass tightly. Pulling you upwards into his toned arms, Connor heaved you around his waist before taking the five short steps to the counter that sat against the far wall, the place where your coffee maker lived, a poor excuse for a kitchen.  
Dropping your weight against the worn counter top, Connor hugged and caressed your back, tightly bringing your torso against his own while teeth and tongue still had it out with yours.  
Letting go of his hair with one hand, you dipped your arm between your bodies and let it travel down between you to caress the erection that sat concealed behind a layer of faded denim.   
Connor’s eyes fluttered softly with lust as he took in a breath at your touch.  
“Don’t you fuckin’ tempt me, girl. Knock that shit off…” His voice trailed as his fingers suddenly clenched tightly onto the tops of your thighs.  
His warning was useless. You knew Connor well enough to know when he was too hungry to stop, and with his hooded eyes and slack jaw, you knew he was all but starved.  
“Con, I’m not doing anything.”  
The pressurized friction you were creating against his throbbed cock was too delicious to step away from, and you knew that you were building him up to the point of no return.  
“Awe… You gotta stop.” His words were thick in his throat as his eyes traveled downward to watch your hand rub furiously against his crotch.  
“Tell me to stop, baby… I ‘ll do anything you tell me to do, Connor.”  
You bit your lip and felt your thighs clench when you heard Connor’s voice hitch in his throat.  
“I just want to make you happy; do you want me to stop, baby boy?” Your voice had adopted a tone of faux shyness and you knew it was teasing Connor’s fantasies.   
“No… No, don’t stop… Don’t, don’t.”  
You flicked open Connor’s jeans with ease and quickly slipped your hand in to take hold of the real McCoy.  
Connor’s cock twitched violently at your touch and you had no shame in admitting that you got off on how horny he was.  
Running the pad of your thumb over his leaking head, you worked his shaft and twisted every time you reached his head, working him into a near physical convulsion. Leaning forward, you let your tongue run laps up and down Connor’s salty neck, lightly nipping at the Virgin Mary tattooed upon his skin.  
Connor stood there frozen before you, temporarily allowing you to tease him.  
“How badly do you wanna taste me right now?”  
Your lurid words erupted from your throat and traveled softly into his ear, only to have a lightening fast reaction occur.  
In one powerful motion, Connor picked you up and yanked your jeans and panties down over your ass before dropping his weight to the floor below, ripping the denim from your legs as he went. Taking no time to appreciate your naked figure perched in front of him, Connor instead dove between your thighs.  
Yanking your thighs apart with his powerful hands, you suddenly felt Connor’s rapid tough attack your clit, showing your swollen pearl no mercy.  
“Holy shit, Con!”  
Bending your knee and placing the flat of your foot against Connor’s back, you simplified Connor’s intrusion on your folds, opening up for his tongue like a welcoming guest.  
The ravenous sounds that traveled up from between your thighs gave you permission to let your own audible pleasure be heard.  
“Fuck, Connor! That’s right, baby… Show me how bad you want it.”   
Connor always appreciated a challenge and gripped tightly onto your hips, pulling your core forward before fucking you with his tongue.  
Letting out an animalistic growl, you once again grab onto Connor’s hair and direct him to exactly where you needed to feel his tongue.  
Slipping two fingers into your channel with ease, Connor began pumping into your furiously, taking great gratification in watching you roll your hips against his hand.  
“Baby, who the hell wants it now, huh?”  
You had no capabilities of exchanging quips, all you could focus on was pushing your hips forward and making sure Connor’s fingers continued to make contact with that magical internal pressure point.  
“You’re so fucking wet for Daddy.”  
Connor forced a third finger past your ached entrance, before leaning forward and sucking vigorously on your clit.  
“Shit! Oh my god, Connor! Fuck!”   
Nearly slipping off of the counter, you cling to the cracked tile and tried to steady yourself, all while Connor’s name tumbled from your open mouth in constant repetition.  
“Connor, get your ass up here and fuck me!”  
Abandoning your heated sex, Connor quickly stood and shoved his jeans down to his knees before ripping his shirt from his bronzed chest.  
“How bad do you want me to fuck you right now?”  
You husked your breath out in desperation, unable to laugh at Connor turning your own cruel foreplay against you.  
“Argh, Connor, fuck me!”  
Leaning forward you catch Connor’s bottom lip between your teeth and nip at him painfully in an attempt to egg him on.  
Your breath caught in your chest, you watched as Connor lined the head of his dick up with your counter level entrance.  
There were no teasing, shallow pumps, no timid moments where his entered and exited; instead there was a powerful thrust forward, Connor filling you to completion with a single, harsh hip swing.   
“Fuck!”  
Gripping tightly to his naked shoulders, you forced Connor close to you, chewing his neck and pulling the dishwater locks that hung short at the top of his neck.  
Adopting an unforgivable ritual of rhythmic thrusts, Connor’s cock tortured your soaked sex over and over again, each new hip motion more powerful than its predecessor.  
You felt your body give way to a powerful release of liquid lust as Connor’s thighs, as well as your own became coated in the evidence of your arousal.  
“Fuck, that’s my girl…”  
“Connor, fuck me… Don’t stop. You can’t stop.”  
Connor forced his tongue past your lips in a single dash across your taste buds before abandoning your mouth to gnaw rigorously at your ear lobe.   
“Couldn’t…stop…if I tried.”  
The heat from his words danced into your eardrum and you gasped his name with each new entrance into your convulsing walls.  
Knowing you were close, you clung in desperation to Connor’s wild hips, locking your ankles over the dimples that sat just above his ass.  
“You gonna come fer me darlin’?” Connor growled at your physical tell.  
“So hard… God, Connor, I’m gonna come so fucking hard.”  
Forcing your bra up around your neck with a single sweeping motion, Connor’s pouted lips began sucking and lapping at your erect nipples, teasing you beyond repair, before biting down and forcing you to scream in climactic anticipation.  
Throwing your head back against the cupboard door, your body was overwhelmed with sexual stimulation and wanting.  
“Connor, I’m so fucking close… Jesus, I need you to come with me; I need to hear you scream my name.”  
Sweat had collected across Connor’s brow and popped up in puddles above his collarbones.  
Releasing your breast from his hungry mouth, Connor surfaced only to better see where his thumb was destined to arrive.  
Slipping between your folds, Connor rubbed tight, pressured circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves, allowing you to open your mouth but stopping a single sound from escaping it.  
“Come for daddy, darlin’.”  
His final verbal coax was all your overly sexed mind needed as a white hot volt shuddered through your being. You cried out violently as Connor continued to pound into you mercilessly, fucking you clean past your climax and into a warped oblivion.  
“Cazzo, sto arrivando! Sto cazzo arrivando! Jesus!”  
You felt Connor’s hot release coat your inner walls as they continued to ache while you came down from your ecstasy.   
Connor dropped his head onto your shoulder before nuzzling downward to plant sloppy, affectionate kisses across your glistening chest.  
Unable to catch the breath that escaped you, you gasped a small, exhausted laugh.  
“What the fuck did you just say?”  
Your words were lazy as they fell between your parted lips.  
“Huh?” Connor looked up at you from his place on your chest.  
“You two have a bad habit of saying things to me in languages that I don’t understand.”  
Connor rolled his eyes before standing up to meet you face to face, a wicked smile etched across his chiseled face.  
“We keep fucking like that, you’re bound to start retaining it. We’ll teach you how to speak Italian yet.”


	33. Murphy Knows

Chapter Thirty-Three

“Fuck!”  
Your hand flew down to your still bandaged side as you clenched your abdomen in pain. You’d made the mistake of pushing the broom too far out of your reach, trying to gather some stray crumbs from beneath a barstool.  
“Darlin’, what the fuck are ya doin’ here, huh? I told ya to not work for a while, didn’t I?”  
You smiled at the old man’s voice without looking up, grateful for the father like kindness he bestowed upon you.  
“I know, I know. I just needed a change of scene. I needed to get out of that fucking apartment. I was going insane.”  
**  
The last few days Connor had all but kept you on secret house arrest, always finding a reason for you to not accompany them on their ammo run, or their midnight exploration of ways to best break into Yakavetta’s house.  
Three days had passed while the boys nailed down their game plan, both you and Connor conveniently not being able to find the time to drop the news of Baby MacManus on Murph.  
There had been several times that Connor had gone to the roof to smoke, or when Rocco had drug him out on a beer run, where you tried to talk to Murph, however every time you opened your mouth, the fear of his possibly negative reaction made you nauseous.  
Finally, when the boys were gathered around a pile of gun magazines, counting rounds, you got up and grabbed your coat.  
“Where you goin’, baby?”  
Murph looked up at you from his tedious job of wiping a gun clean, his blue eyes forever making you weak in the knees.  
“I’m going to run down to the bar, see if I can’t help Doc out with anything.”  
Connor immediately shot you a look of ‘are you fucking serious right now?’ from across the room.  
“Why?” Murph gave a small laugh before raising an eyebrow at you. “I think it’s more important for you to heal a gut shot right now, don’t you? Besides, ain’t like anyone else in this room has punched a time clock in over two weeks.”  
Rocco and Connor joined Murphy in his deep laugh while his hands still continued to rub the barrel of a gun spotless.  
“Aye, that has been a fuckin’ considerable upside to shootin’ fuckin’ gangsters though, hasn’t it? Takin’ their money so we don’t have to pack dead animals anymore?”   
Connor looked at his twin brother with a crooked smile before turning back to you, his expression changing in a flash to one of anxiousness.  
“I’m not going for the money, I’m just claustrophobic. I need to do something normal; something that doesn’t require me to scrub blood out of my hair or cauterize a bullet wound,” you said as you bent down to zip your boots up around your jeans.  
Murphy gave you a small nod, obviously not agreeing with your decision, but not enough to argue with you about it.  
**  
Setting the broom against the far wall, just behind the bar, you walked behind the oak surface, leaning against it while Doc wiped down the wood in a circular motion.  
“Can I do that?”  
Doc looked at you with a curious eye before handing you the rag.  
“Love, I do believe you ought to go home now, let the hole that bullet left close up.”  
“Doc, it’s closed, they stitched it. I’m all good to go,” you answered, giving the elder a warm smile before ringing out the damp cloth.  
“That’s not the hole I’m talkin’ about, darlin’. Some holes you can’t see, and they’re the hardest ones to fill.”  
You felt your eyes glaze over, as you wiped in tight circles over the already shining bar, unwilling to look Doc in the face as tears welled.  
“I’m trying, Doc. Trust me, I’m trying.”  
Before you could attempt to stop the contact, Doc had draped a heavy arm across your shoulders, pulling you into his chest.  
“Aye, don’t I know it, love.”  
You could smell the deep aroma of original Old Spice rising through his sweater, coaxing your nostrils to comfort as you allowed yourself to relax.  
Physical contact had always been something that you had struggled with. Your entire life you had never taken part in a hug that lasted more than a few seconds, your bodies touching for half a moment before you instinctively pulled away. However, all of that had changed when two brothers had walked into your life.  
None of your rules seemed to ever apply when it came to them. They set the new standard in your life. They were the exception to everything you had previous thought about yourself.  
Tears streamed from your eyes as you rubbed a red nose against the wool fabric that your face rested on, allowing yourself to feel what it was like to have a father figure care for you.  
“Sweetheart, why don’t you go on home now, huh? Let those boys o’ mine take good care of ya?”  
You nodded, pulling away from Doc’s embrace before wiping your damp cheeks with the back of your sleeve.  
“I will, I promise. I just want to be alone for a little while.”  
Doc eyed you nervously before giving you a slow nod.  
“Alright then, well I’ll just be upstairs if ya need me. Lock up when you leave?”  
“Of course.” You sniffed your nose before giving the old man a grateful smile.  
“Alright then.”  
The old man wandered up the stairs, shutting a bedroom door somewhere beyond your eyesight as you began working on the dirty glasses that were still gathered in the sink.  
Your mind wandered aimlessly into deep crevices of your mind before being called back to attention by the knowledge that the boys were supposed to be assassinating Yakavetta tomorrow night.  
To say that you were scared would have been an understatement; and your fear, coupled with the annoyance of Connor uninviting you on said mission, was making you more sick than you knew morning sickness ever could.  
You couldn’t seem to shake a nervous twitch every time you thought about the boys’ next endeavor; something about the city being on high alert for murderous vigilantes wasn’t sitting well.  
It was one thing for agent Smecker to know; which you still were not happy at all about; but it was a completely different matter to know that most of the remaining mob members in Boston were on a manhunt.  
While rubbing sticky bourbon out of the bottom of a glass, you heard the heavy oak door creak behind your back.  
“We’re closed-“  
Swinging around to tell some random drunk to beat it, a mess of dark hair instead greeted you, accompanied lightning blue eyes that made you smile both stupidly and shamelessly.  
“You sure? Dammit, where do you think I can get a shot of Jack at 2 am in Boston?”  
Raising an eyebrow, you had no power of hiding your own amusement at Murphy’s whimsy.  
“Um, around the corner? Two blocks up? Four blocks down? At home? Or, you know, if you talk real nice to him, I bet the guy I saw peeing in the alley out back would share with you.”  
“Well then, maybe I’m not here for the Jack.”  
You were mid eye roll when Murph gave a small hop and leaned his torso over the bar, grabbing you from behind the neck and pulling you in for a sweet, but sloppy mess of lips and tongues.  
“Now that, I knew I could only get here.”  
Murphy bit his bottom lip in a mocking act of seduction and you felt your cheeks ache from the wide smile you gave into.  
“No, I’m actually pretty sure the alley bum out back gives that away too…”  
Murphy’s chest heaved as he laughed unexpectedly.  
“You are a clever little shit, ya know that?”  
“I did, I did know that. Do me a favor and put that in my obituary one day? Rylee MacManus; A Clever Little Shit.”  
You picked up another dirty glass to clean before you realized that Murphy hadn’t laughed. You knew that your joke wasn’t stand up worthy, but to not earn a chuckle was a little unexpected.  
You looked up into that pale, slightly freckled face that made your heart stop, and realized that he could never laugh at another bad joke of yours again, and you’d be fine with that.  
“You okay?”   
Your voice was a little timid.  
“MacManus.”  
“Hmm?”  
Murphy cracked the knuckles on his left hand while locking his eyes down on the bar.  
“MacManus, you said MacManus. Rylee MacManus.”  
You hadn’t noticed until Murphy had spoken, but he wasn’t wrong. You had abandoned your last name for the boys’ in your hypothetical obituary.  
“Oh, yeah I guess I did. Wood. Rylee Wood; A Clever Little Shit. Better?”  
You tried to play off your voice with an air of casualness but as you side glanced Murph who finally and regained his stare on you, you knew you had failed in your endeavor.  
“You’re gonna be one ya know…someday.”  
Putting the glass down and taking the two steps across the floor, you gently grazed the top of Murphy’s hand with the tips of your fingers before sauntering around the bar and placing your palms on either of the Irishman’s thighs.   
“Am I? I always thought that maybe I was one of those liberal girls who wouldn’t take her husband’s last name.”  
Murphy rolled his hooded eyes at you while chewing his bottom lip.  
“You’re lettin’ my name slip out of yer mouth on accident and now you don’t know if you wanna take it.”  
“Should I hyphen it? I mean, is Rylee Wood-MacManus a mouthful?”  
You gave a tiny scream suddenly as Murphy grabbed you hips and squeezed a painful tickle into your skin.  
“How about I give ya a fuckin’ mouthful, how about that?”  
Laughing too hard to respond, you shook your head violently back and fourth.  
Moving his hands up to your rib cage you dropped the weight in your knees, letting your body hang in Murphy’s arms as he continued to tease and tickle you until tears began running down your cheeks.  
“Stop! Stop!”  
Your pleas were nothing by restrained chokes as you squirmed in Murphy’s arms.  
“Alright, alright. Come here then.”  
Murphy hoisted you back onto your feet, allowing you to fall forward into his chest as you tried to recover your breath, his sleeve gently wiping the spilled tears across your cheeks before a stay finger caught under your chin and brought your jaw up to meet his.  
Murphy’s lips delicately persuaded yours to open, gingerly dipping the tip of his tongue in and out of your mouth, tasting you gradually before engulfing and devouring your mouth.  
Reaching your hands up, you allow your fingers to surf wave after wave through the dark entanglement that is Murphy’s hair, accidently knocking the extra cigarette that sat behind his right ear to the floor; before tugging hard on the curl that sat near his neck.  
Murphy growled dangerously against your mouth before grunting a few obscenities, jutting his hips forward towards you before grasping your jaw tightly in the palms of his hands.  
“Aye, I fuckin’ love ya, Rylee MacManus.”  
“I’m pregnant.”  
You jumped away from Murph as if he had suddenly caught fire and you covered your own mouth in shock. Something about the way his accented tone curled around the mixture of your name and his caused you to verbally vomit up the secret that you had been sitting on.  
Backing away from him until you made contact with the pool table that sat in the center of the bar, you stared at Murphy, his eyes locked fiercely on you, before traveling down to stare at your abdomen.  
Cursing yourself silently over and over, you still clung tightly to your own mouth, terrified that if you moved your hands something else may tumble out of it.  
You felt ill and weren’t sure what the next move would be. Unlike Connor, Murphy’s emotions were much more easily hidden. You and Connor both tended to show all your cards from the get go; people could write songs about Murphy’s poker face.  
Rather than speak you stared silently, trying your best to hold his eyes but failing after only a few seconds. Your gaze traveling downward, you noticed a small hole in the bottom hem of his black t-shirt; there was a bit of cigarette ash on the right sleeve of his pea coat; something dark and liquid had left a permanent stain in the left thigh of his over worn jeans; and the right lace of his boot was beginning to come untied.  
There he was, your man, in all his shabby glory. Callused hands, unkempt hair, clothes a thrift store would probably turn down, and smelling of smoke. Murphy MacManus, the man who you would rather die than lose.  
You wished he was as paper thin as Connor, you wished you could catch a side view of him and know how he felt about something, and you sure as hell wished that he would fucking say something; but you wouldn’t dare force it, in case the words that left his mouth were not ones that you wanted to hear.  
“Murph-“ You began, unable to take the silence anymore.  
However, his entire name had not made it past your lips before Murphy moved; shrugging off his coat and letting it drop to the floor, the shaded twin came towards you in a flash.  
Thick fingers grazed your scalp as he grasped beneath your hair, bringing you into him, his tongue already searching for you before his lips had the time to release it. Your mouth had no sooner opened before hands abandoned your hair only to tangle themselves in the cotton of your shirt, leaving you bare in seconds as Murphy skinned the thin layer of clothing from your body.   
You had already began kicking off your own boots as Murphy pulled your jeans apart, the button popping open and the zipper crying out as force yanked the teeth apart. Rolling skintight denim and black panties down your milky thighs Murphy turned your jeans inside out as he forced them down around your ankles, pulling with might to get them off of your feet.  
Assisting Murphy in his efforts you had removed your own bra and already ripped Murphy’s belt from his pants, letting the denim all but shrug off of his lean hips. Murphy pulled off his black tee, letting his rosary swing around his neck before moving in to you.  
His breath heavy from the panicked strip, his lips hovered just above yours, paused while his eyes searched your face. Brushing a tussled curl from around your eyes, Murphy once again kissed you, his fingers tracing your hourglass waist before resting on your pale hip.  
Gently resting his weight against you, Murphy began laying you down against the green felt on the table; his knees climbing one after the other and positioning himself between your legs.  
Crawling upward, Murphy placed speckled kisses up your calf, running his tongue from your knee to your inner thigh. He massaged deep, and damp lips into your right hip before hoisting himself up a little further; just high enough to bring him level with your stomach.  
Taking a deep inhale of breath as he lowered himself to you; the rough but welcoming feeling of a five o’clock shadow made contact with your milky skin. Murphy nuzzled himself there, against your abdomen, rubbing his face slowly into you, placing lazy yet passionate kisses all around your torso, his fingers lightly lingering around your bellybutton.  
Peering down, you had never seen a more beautiful sight in your life, nor had you ever been more surprised by one. It was then that you realized that he didn’t not speak because he was angry or scared, he didn’t speak because he didn’t have to. All he had to do was this; and you had never felt safer at any other moment in your life.  
After a few more seconds that you wished were hours, Murphy brought his face level with your own, wrapping his forearm under your head before he began placing lightly pecked kisses across your jaw.  
Your body gave way to a small jerk when you felt the pressure of Murphy’s head against your entrance, firm and asking for permission to enter. Dropping your knees lazily apart, you rolled your hips upwards towards him, granting him passage while gripping your arms tightly around his bare shoulders.  
Pushing forward, Murphy hissed into your ear as he entered you, bringing fourth a whine from your parted lips as you clenched yourself tightly around his girth. Murphy looked at you in a way that you had never seen before, a compassion that was new and you had never even known was possible.  
Slowly thrusting himself forward, Murphy’s jaw fell open as he gasped deliciously, relishing his time within you as if it were the first time.  
Pushing and pulling his rigid erection from within your ached channel, Murphy began fucking you in a way that he never had. Taking his time, he rolled his hips against yours, and with even the smallest of movements, he gasped as if he were moments away from the end.   
Wrapping your legs around his waist and locking your ankles in the small of his back, you lifted your ass up and off of the pool table, desiring the optimal position for Murphy to reach the spot within that never failed to make you forget your own name.  
Changing positions suddenly made Murphy bury his face deep into the crook of your neck, whispering quiet, inaudible words into his own forearm.  
Slow as the current pace was, you still felt yourself soak around Murphy’s cock, grateful for each new penetration that his hips granted you, arching your back and throwing your neck against Murphy’s arm that cradled you.  
“Deeper…Baby, please, just a little deeper.”  
Your words were so quiet that they surprised even you, yet Murphy dropped himself completely against you, filling you to completion and making contact with the wound up pad of nerves that made your walls clench around him.  
“Yes! God, thank you baby, thank you… again.”  
Murphy withdrew to where only his swollen head sat tightly within you before grabbing hold of the table’s edge and snapping his hips forward, forcing his cock deeply into your core.  
Your eyes had welled with tears of both relief and pleasure as Murphy adopted a rigorous pace of teasing your g-spot, fucking you deeply and making your vision blur.  
Tracing your outer ear with the tip of his tongue, you could feel the heat coming from Murphy’s breath as it played against your glistening skin. Your limbs were beginning to stick as each of you worked your way into a sweat.  
Grasping and scratching at his wide shoulders, you pulled your weight up, practically hanging from Murphy’s body, as you tongued and bit the curve of his hot neck, the salty nectar gathering in your mouth before you returned to Murphy’s mouth, kissing him without hesitation or regret.  
Releasing his arm from under your head, Murphy brought himself to hover above you, both of your eyes staring down at where your bodies met, his rosary swinging wildly from his neck while he thrust his hips against you, his speed growing along with the volume of moans escaping each of you.  
“Fuck…I’m close, Ry… You gonna come for me, darlin’?”  
The growl that released from deep within Murphy’s chest, coupled with his lurid question set your skin ablaze and sent a dangerous vibration down your spine and between your legs.  
“I’ll do it for you… I’ll always come for you, baby.”  
Lowering his face but never missing a single rhythmic thrust, Murphy engulfed your very being as he wrapped his tongue around yours, coaxing every moan you might have withheld to come pouring fourth.  
“Murphy, I love you… I love you so much, baby. Don’t stop. You can’t stop.”  
A new vigor in his thrust, Murphy began losing control as his hips bounced wildly and his climactic cries were coupled with animalistic groans.  
“I fuckin’ love you…Fuck, I’m coming…coming.”  
“Come for me, Daddy. Fuck me, harder…harder!”  
Your brain turned to an unimaginable mess of color and sound as your eyes rolled and your body began to spasm. Hot seed coated your throbbing channel as Murphy continued his lazy, final hip rolls, coasting his rhythm to a stand still while both of you clung to each other’s damp skin.  
Still feeling Murphy’s body lightly convulsing on top of you, you ran your fingers through his wild, wet hair, sweeping it from his blue eyes as he gazed up at you, lips kissing the perked nipple of your right breast.  
“That was so…”  
“Aye, fuckin’ right it was. Shit.”  
You laughed as Murphy rolled to the right, resting his head against your naked chest, both of you still panting and chasing your regular breathing patterns.  
Taking the tip of his pointer finger, Murphy began drawing invisible circles around your bellybutton, nuzzling his face against your hot chest, resuming his act of romancing your torso.  
“’T’s really in there?”  
You bit your lip and then nodded slowly.  
“Yeah. It is.”  
“Holy shit.”  
“I know, it’s-“  
“It’s fuckin’ amazin’.”  
Your voice caught in your throat and you stopped dead, mid sentence.  
“You… You think so?”  
You were a little ashamed of how timid and surprised your voice sounded, but if you were being completely honest, this was not the reaction you had been wearily expecting.  
“I’m gonna be a da, Ry. How could that not be the most amazin’ thing on the whole fuckin’ planet?”  
Tears rushed your eyes as you looked down at the shaggy mop of dark hair resting against your ribcage, unable to comprehend Murphy’s beautiful, kind heart and mind.  
“I guess it is amazing, huh? I guess I didn’t realize…”  
Your voice trailed as Murphy rested his chin against your skin, his pale blue eyes looking up at you.  
“You’re gonna be a Ma, and you’re gonna be a fuckin’ brilliant one at that.”  
“Murph…” you tried swallowing the lump forming inside your throat but couldn’t persuade it to go down, “are you… are you worried?”  
“’Bout what, love?”  
There was a pure, innocence in his question that made you not want to say another word.  
“About… Who…”  
“Nah.”  
Murphy shook his head without breaking eye contact.  
How could he not be worried about whose baby you were carrying?  
“You’re not?”  
“Why would it matter? I don’t need to know. None of us need to know, Ry. We made a baby, and we’re a fuckin’ family. That kid, he’s gonna be loved more than any other kid in the whole fuckin’ world.”  
The smile that Murphy wore was contagious.  
“Love is what matters, baby, and since there ain’t a single question of weather he’ll be adored, I don’t see why we have to ask any other question at all.”  
Using the back of your hand, you wiped away the tears pooling along the crease of your eyelids before giving way to a small laugh.  
“You know, Con keeps calling it a boy too. He refers to the baby as ‘he’ whenever we talk about it.”  
Murphy rolled his eyes before bending to kiss your stomach once more.  
“Then it’s settled, ain’t it? You a boy? Yeah, you are, aren’t you? You’re my son.”  
“Just because you and Connor call him a boy doesn’t make him magically grow a penis.”   
Murphy raised an eyebrow to you before dipping his face back down to talk to your abdomen once more.  
“Your Ma thinks she knows fuckin’ everythin’, but I’m gonna need ya to be a boy now, alright? Just to keep yer Ma in line.”  
Murphy gave a fake cry as you swatted his head lightly in protest.


	34. Trusting Enough to Let Go

Chapter Thirty-Four:

There was sharpness in the night’s air as the four of you sat once more in the back of Rocco’s van. Whether it was from the stinging wind that somehow found it’s way through your clothes to chill your skin, or from the nervous rush of adrenaline pumping through your veins, you’d never know.  
Rocco was constantly popping his knuckles; even after they stopped making noise; he continued to push against his joints over and over until they finally give way to another faint pop.  
Murphy was about to kill off his second pack of cigarettes since the lot of you had departed the loft, bringing his total smokes for the day to a near even carton.  
All the while Connor was chewing his bottom lip raw. The perked and perfect bottom half of Connor’s mouth was thick and angry, turning purple and slightly bloody as the tanned Irishman continued to roll it back and fourth between his teeth.  
“Con, you look like you’ve already taken a couple to the mouth and you haven’t even go in yet.”  
Hazel eyes catching you by surprise, Connor let his lip free and rubbed his sore mouth with the palm of his hand.  
“Connor often takes more than a couple to the mouth though, don’t he?” Murphy laughed lowly as he spit the butt of a cigarette from his mouth and out the open van window; adding to the already heaping pile that was surely sitting outside in the gutter.  
Rocco joined Murph in his light laughter and you felt a guilty grin roll over your closed lips. Connor, however, simply rolled his eyes at his twin brother before leaning his back against the inner wall of the vehicle.  
It seemed strange to laugh at such an obvious joke in the current situation. None of your minds were on humor, and perhaps if the crack had not been so blatantly made available, Murphy’s filthy mind would have skipped over it as well.  
Stewing outside, waiting for the opportune moment to break into Yakavetta’s house was slow but sure torture. Your attempts at talking the boys out of this venture had failed miserably, and you knew that there were not enough pleas in the world to stop them from killing the man that they held responsible for so much of Boston’s corruptions.  
“Man, I don’t think any of these fuckers are gonna leave, do you?” Rocco asked, still pushing mercilessly against the joints in his hands, carefully avoiding the fresh stump that was formerly his right pinky finger.   
“Doesn’t look good then, does it Roc?” Connor had leaned over your lap to pear out the driver’s side window, the musk of his faded t-shirt dancing against your nostrils.  
Arriving upon the lavish, yet somehow still unbelievably tacky mansion belonging to the targeted gangster, the four of you had come across several cars parked along the side streets, obviously belonging to fellow mob members who had walked up the long drive to perhaps have dinner with their boss.   
The waiting game had then progressed, anxiously counting down the hours until Yakavetta’s flunkies were relieved for the night; however it was quickly becoming obvious that their departure was not coming anytime soon.  
“Aye, these fat fucks are in it for the long hall, boys.” Murphy craned his head backwards to once again peer upon the well-lit house. “Fuck it, let’s just hit him hard anyway.”  
“How about the three of you fucking stay put until they actually leave!” There was a stern tone in your voice that caught all three men off guard.  
“Darlin’ I don’t think they’re leavin’ and-“  
“And I don’t fucking care, Connor.”  
Connor gave a small nod before settling himself back against the wall of the van, readying himself for a fight he knew he would lose.  
“They can’t stay in there forever, what is this? Some fucking mobster slumber party? They’ll come out, and when they do, then you can go in.”  
All three of them were silent, looking from one another then quickly back to the floor, avoiding eye contact with you at all costs.  
“Ry…” to your absolute surprise, it was Rocco who gathered the nerve to argue. “Listen, I think we can fuckin’ take ‘em. I really do. I don’t know how the fuck these two Irish pricks learned to shoot like they do, but fuck if they don’t kill everybody.”  
“Roc, I’m not willing to risk it.” Your voice was steady and low.  
Murphy and Connor knew full well why you were putting your foot down, yet neither of them ventured to share that information with Rocco.  
“Look, I know you’re worried somethin’ might happen, but somethin’ could have happened all the other times too. This shit is no different, Ry. We’ll be fine.”  
“Roc, it is different.” You stared at him after your words dropped heavy, although Rocco seemed to not clue into your statement.  
“Rylee’s pregnant, Roc.” Connor looked up from the floor, taking your place in sharing the news. “We’re gonna have a kid.”  
Turning his head fast to face you once again, his long locks flying wildly around him, Rocco’s mouth dropped and hung open.  
“Holy fucking shit.”  
A cracked laugh released beside you, and a side-glance showed you Murphy had taken to chuckling into his forearm.  
“You’re pregnant?” Rocco blatantly asked, pointing a gloved finger in your direction.  
“Yeah, Roc. I am.”  
“Holy shit! But who…” Rocco’s head swung back and fourth between Connor and Murphy, suddenly realizing that only one of them could have planted the single seed.  
Biting your lip, you waited for one of the boys to open their mouths before you were forced to.  
“Does it matter, Roc? We’re havin’ a baby!” Murphy’s voice was vibrant and Rocco nodded in immediate agreement.  
“Fuck no, it don’t matter at all.”  
Rocco showed a wide smile, looking each of you directly in the face. You couldn’t help but be warmed all the way to your core by his reaction, his undeniable acceptance.  
“Congratu-fucking-lations!”  
Rocking the van dangerously, Rocco stood up, crouched against the roof, and made his way in a half circle, taking the time to hug each of you, and stopping to kiss your forehead and pat a gloved hand tenderly against your flat abdomen.  
“Thanks, Roc.”  
“Well, I guess I see why you want us to wait then, huh?” Rocco breathed a heavy sigh as he took his place once more on the floor of the van.  
“Aye, somethin’ ‘bout not wanting to raise a kid on her own, I’d imagine.” Connor shot you a quick glance and a raised eyebrow before continuing to chew on his bottom lip once more.  
“Which I don’t get, I mean, if one of us gets shot, she’ll still have one more da lined up, won’t she?” Murphy spoke through the corner of his mouth as he went to light his umpteenth smoke of the evening.  
“So not fucking funny…”  
Your voice disagreed with Murphy’s smart ass comment, yet you didn’t hesitate to laugh along with the three men that surrounded you; taking the time to enjoy the peace and joy you felt with them, even if the feeling lasted only a moment and that moment was fleeting.  
Five Murphy cigarettes later, the same cars still stood unmoving while Rocco and Connor had taken up playing a juvenile game of slap hand, in which Con was constantly aiming for Rocco’s nub.  
“Fucking shit!” Rocco shook his wounded hand violently as Connor once again smacked at his phantom limb.  
“Gotta be quicker, Roc.”  
“Connor, man, fuck you.”  
Swinging violently and catching him off guard, Rocco slapped Connor’s thigh, which still held tightly to a bullet embedded in his muscle.  
There was a bellowed howl from Connor before the two of them began rolling back and fourth between either side of the van, punching each other and shouting obscenities.  
“Aye, will you two knock it the fuck off? Stake out is pretty pointless if they can hear you two girls fightin’ clear down the fuckin’ street.”  
Taking their respective places back on the ground, you gave way to a giggle as Connor kicked one last time at Rocco while Murphy’s back was turned.  
“I need a fuckin’ drink if we’re gonna be here all god damn night.”  
Your raised an eyebrow in Rocco’s direction, silently wondering if he was actually serious, but then realized that even subconsciously that was a stupid question, as both Connor and Murphy nodded in agreement.  
“I’m gonna go for a beer run. There’s a liquor store a couple blocks up.”  
Rocco bumped his head once more one the top of the car as he stood to exit.  
“Get some Jack, Roc,” Murphy called as Rocco jumped down onto the pavement.  
“Really? We’re going to do this shitfaced?”  
Rolling his eyes at you in a true husbandly fashion, Murphy nodded at Rocco.  
“Fine, just the beer then.”  
Giving a half smile and a small nod, Rocco clicked the double doors shut behind him.  
There was an awkward silence for several moments after Roc made his departure; it had suddenly become all the more apparent that your playful worrying from earlier in the evening was actually completely validated.  
“We’re gonna be fine.”  
Directing your attention to Murphy, Connor and you both stared at the one brave enough to break the silence.   
“We’ve gotta do this, Con-“ Murphy spoke directly to his brother, the two of them locked deeply into the other’s gaze. “Now more than ever.”  
“Aye, I know.” Connor looked at you then, but not at your face. You then realized that it was not actually you he was looking at, but instead his newfound motivation to rid the world of everyone who was not worthy to share the planet with his child.  
“I wish you would just let me go with you-“ You had not even remotely finished your sentence before both men shut you down without hesitation.  
“Absolutely fuckin’ not!”  
“You’ve fuckin’ lost it, haven’t ya?”  
After the belligerent protesting quieted you shouted the rest of your thought before they could continue to verbally block you.  
“What am I supposed to do then? Just wait here? Hang out? Do my nails?”  
As they so often did, both MacManus brothers began ignoring you and picking apart your words for their own comedic relief.  
“Does she do her nails?”  
“Dunno, she doesn’t paint them, right?”  
“I’ve never noticed.”  
“Nah, she doesn’t. Not once in over a year have I seen her-“  
“Just because I don’t paint them does not mean that I ignore them completely!”  
Both boys laughed hysterically as you interrupted their bickering at your expense.  
“We’re messin’ ‘round with you, Ry. That’s all.” Connor ran a bare hand through his hair as he spoke.  
“Stop changing the subject.”  
Emotions were getting the better of you and you were quickly losing the capability of acting nonchalantly.  
Connor’s facial expression changed in an instant as you watched your fear mirrored in his own face.  
“I’m sorry, love.”  
Connor was always the one to speak first, always the one to communicate verbally before anything else. Murphy, however, only spoke when his body language and actions failed to convey his message.  
You felt a warm hand cup itself over your own and you lifted your eyes up to meet Murphy’s; clear blue and almost glowing in the dim light.  
One look from Murphy could say things that a thousand words would fall short of. His eyes were unwavering and his breath was steady. Your hand was shaking, but as usual, the man you loved was steady.  
“Rylee, I know you’re scared.”  
Pulling away from Murphy’s gaze, your attention was put on Connor as his words rang heavy in your ears.  
You knew all too well that fear was etched across your porcelain skin, and Connor’s verbalization made your chest hurt.  
“You have to come back to me.”  
Words left your mouth heavy and fast, but just as he was the night you met him, just as he always was, Connor did not react, he didn’t falter; Connor was your rock.   
Turning your face back to the pale skinned, blue eyed boy who had taken your soul captive one morning over burnt bacon, your lips parted and quivered before you spoke.  
“You have to come back to us,” unable to push back the tide of emotion any longer, you felt several tears rush down your cheeks, forcing you to look down towards your lap, ashamed at your burst of fear and insecurity.  
“Please don’t leave me alone.”  
You heard scuffling against the floor of the van while you cried down onto your denim-coated thighs, only to have a pair of hands grip your own.  
“Hey, hey, hey, look at me.”  
Bringing your chin up to meet Connor’s face, you saw that there was true love and empathy shadowing his every feature.  
“You will never be alone, ever.”  
Hiccupping back tears, you nodded to ensure Connor that you believed him, even if both of you were well aware of your lie.  
Directing your chin towards him, Murphy pulled your focus from Connor just long enough for him to plant a tender kiss against your tear stained lips.  
“I belong to you Ry, we belong to you. I will never fail to find my way back to you, because without you, I’m afraid that I might cease to exist.” Murphy exhaled quietly, looking down at Connor’s hands which still held tight to your own, “Trust me, you’ll have to work much harder than that to get rid of us.”  
A laugh broke through your tears as you squeezed Connor’s hands tightly between your own fingers, fighting through the fear and relying whole heartedly on your faith in Connor and Murphy.  
“I love you… I love both of you, so fucking much.” Moving your gaze from Murphy, to Connor and back again, you were suddenly caught in a second kiss that you had not been expecting.  
Murphy’s tongue protruded past your open lips and rolled in waves over your taste buds, washing a warm, welcoming familiarity over your entity.  
“I…love…you…” Each of Murphy’s words came in short, spurted breathes between devouring kisses that left every hair on your body standing.  
Your tongue waging war against Murphy’s, you had somehow missed Connor moving closer to you, his body radiating invisible rays of heat from his core to your own.  
Parted lips made contact with the curve of your neck, flushing your skin as a short moan ruptured from your rib cage and into Murph’s mouth.  
Connor’s tongue traced up your milky skin before his teeth lightly began gnawing your right ear lobe, something Connor had learned all too well was a pressure point for you. Light huffed breaths played teasingly at your eardrums just as you felt well-callused fingers explore the denim waistline of your jeans.  
Jutting your hips forward at Connor’s light touch, you knew that you were already giving yourself away, your need to be with them in the most intimate, primitive way possible.   
Sliding his hand between your thighs, Murphy began rubbing your center harshly through the crotch of your pants just as Connor fought against the button and zipper.  
You had no control over your hips as they rolled forward against Murphy’s hand, hungry for the friction that was tying your stomach in knots.  
“Ah… Murph…”  
His name tumbling from your mouth, Murphy bent forward to bite your bottom lip, giving you a small taste of pain before sucking the wounded skin between lips of his own.  
“Feels good, baby?”  
Murphy’s violent rubs were enough to start a small fire; that, coupled with the anticipation of Connor removing the belt from his waist and kicking his boots off was more than you could take.  
You hadn’t realized how desperately you had been riding Murphy’s hand until it suddenly became absent and you were still ghosting the place where it had been.  
Heaving breathes filled the van as both Connor and Murphy abandoned their clothing; stripping tight cotton from lean bodies; exposing matching tattoos and bullet wounds.  
Your eyes traveled form one brother to the other, making their way between them; falling physically in love all over again.  
Connor with the dimples in the small of his back; Murph with the tiny trail of freckles that scattered the tops of his shoulders; the fact that they were fraternal twins, yet still managed to have the same ears, chin, and identical glares; their lack of perfection fed your soul and you knew that no one else would ever be able to compare to the vision that currently sat nude before you.  
Connor’s hazel eyes were watching your face, deciphering your thought process as you analyzed the two of them. Catching his glance in a fleeting moment, you knew that Connor had full intention of giving you exactly what you needed.  
Leaning towards you, his hands already half way up the inside of your shirt, Murphy was suddenly spun around, Connor catching him be the mouth in a passionate kiss that could have stopped your heart.  
Eyes clenched shut and lips parted wide, Connor devoured Murphy, their jaws rocking back and fourth against one another, each of them forcing passionate dominance on the other. You felt lust take over you, your stomach cramping, your thighs clenching, and your heavy breath catching in your chest.  
Murphy’s hands gripped hard at Connor’s waist, pushing up against his chest, grasping to his rib cage before making their way up to pull at his dirty blonde hair.  
Connor let out an animalistic growl against his brother’s mouth before lunging forward to suck tauntingly at his bottom lip.  
The chests of both boys heaved against one another as they slowly turned to gaze upon you, the vision of them clenching on to each other, their lips damp from the kiss they had just shared was sinfully sexual.  
Shouldering your jacket off, your fingers looped themselves under the hem of your shirt before skinning it from your body. Discarding your clothing into the front seat, you set to work on your bra clasp just as the Connor and Murphy descended upon you.  
Connor’s well-worn hands gripped your previously undone jeans tightly before ripping them from your legs, quickly taking your panties along with them. Murphy lifted your right breast from the cup of your bra and lowered himself onto your nipple, wasting no time at all in sucking your already protruding bud as his hands unfastened the lingerie behind your back.  
Connor, pulling your knees apart slowly, bit his lip and looked up at you with one raised eyebrow.  
“You just can’t ever get sick of seein’ that…”  
Abandoning your erect nipple that had been pinched between his teeth, Murphy looked down enviously at what was laid out for his brother.  
Slickly maneuvering his hand down between your legs, Murphy lightly parted your delicate folds and softly made contact with the tight bundle of nerves that waited within.  
Your body gave a quiet convulsion at Murphy’s gentle touch as he and Connor exchanged lurid glances.  
Parting your ways with thick fingers, Murphy showed his brother everything that awaited him, as if he were taunting a starving man with a buffet.  
“Jesus Christ…”  
Connor eyed your core hungrily before looking up to Murphy, almost as if he were waiting on his permission.  
“Suck it and tell me how good she tastes.”  
Without any further hesitation, Connor all but dove between your legs; with Murphy still spreading you wide, Connor’s swollen lips made contact with the pearl at the top of your entrance, forcing your knees to buckle and your voice to catch in your throat.  
His tongue rolling your clit back and forth against his mouth, you knew Connor had no intention of low-key foreplay.  
“God… Connor.”  
Murphy clenched your shoulders, not allowing you to slip downward; his eyes locked on his brother’s head, which moved in a delicious motion between your legs.  
“Judging from what it just did in my mouth, I can only imagine how that tongue must feel fucking you…” Murphy’s hushed voice made you choke on your own breath, overstimulation taking hold of you.  
Your thigh muscles rigidly locked, you watched Connor massage your sex between soaked lips, kissing your nerves before sliding his tongue shallowly past your entrance, devouring the evidence of your arousal.  
Murphy’s well-worn finger tips had taken their place around your nipple, lightly pinching, just has his teeth worked their way up to your earlobe. Your senses on fire, you attempted to arch your back, only to have Murphy’s shoulder press against yours, pinning you against the back of the driver’s seat.  
“I’ll tie you down if I have to, baby. You gonna be good?” Murphy gave a harder pinch to your perked breast, spurring you to nod through gritted teeth.  
His tongue trailing the length of your heat, making contact casually over your clit, Connor slowly pushed two fingers in to meet your aching walls.  
“Oh my god!” Throwing your head back you forced your hips towards Connor instinctively, relishing penetration of any form.  
“How she doin’, Con?” Murphy asked, staring down at the sensual scene currently taking place between your legs.  
“She’s soakin’ herself like a good little girl…” Connor’s breath was hot against your skin as he traveled just inches from your trembling center to answer his brother’s question.  
“She gonna come for you?” Murphy’s eyes were watching you now, watching your every pleasured wince and shaking breath as Connor continued to push and pull his digits within you.  
“Murph, I can have her coming in seconds if I push just right…” Connor suddenly shifted his index and middle finger, pushing upwards and applying abundant pressure to your g spot.  
“Holy fucking shit!”  
Your exasperated outbursts and panted breaths had left the windows of the van fogged beyond recognition.  
The fiery pulse that rocked through your spine at a single repositioning was still looming even as Connor removed his hand from your channel.  
“I fuckin’ know our girl.”  
Connor brought himself up to his knees while you struggled to find your breath, his heavy lidded eyes passing through contact with yours before turning to the blue eyes of his brother.  
Without a word, Connor held his two fingers out towards Murphy, offering him the lust that he had conjured. Your stomach twisted tightly at the sight of Murphy sucking Connor’s fingers, taking them in multiple times past his lips, relishing your sensuality.  
As if the taste of you was too overpowering to ignore, Murphy’s voice abruptly adopted a dominant tone, directing you and Connor to fill his fantasy immediately.  
“Connor, come sit up here on the bench.”  
Moving to the side, Murphy switched places with his brother, this time situating himself between your legs.  
Taking a quick glance at your swollen, yet unrelieved sex, Murphy changed his gaze to your sweat damped face.  
“Baby, how do you feel about getting in Connor’s lap?”  
Without hesitation you moved yourself over, Connor’s hands gripping your hips and pulling you the rest of the way on to his body; his throbbed cock pressed between your ass and his stomach.  
Gripping your knees and spreading your legs in front of him, Murphy maneuvered you to meet his exact lurid preference.  
“Con, pick her up and bring her down on that hard cock she loves so much.”  
As if he was holding his breath for Murphy’s direction, Connor wasted no time in heaving your weight up with ease, lifting you above his erection, and sliding you down on top of himself.   
“Fuck… Connor.”  
Heavy pants escaped both of you as your bodies connected, each of you silently knowing how desperately you needed to feel the intimacy that only this beautiful movement could bring.  
Gripping tightly to your pale hips, Connor held you in place, his cock aching so strongly inside of you that your walls vibrated with every pulse moving through his shaft. Feeling Connor’s girth spread your walls but not move was a new level of torture in and of itself. You wanted nothing more in the world than to slide yourself up and down his length, moving yourself to the rhythm of him panting your name.  
Slowly moving two outstretched fingers forward, Murphy rubbed small, tightly pressured circles against your well exposed pearl, making you even more desperate to move towards the pleasure you knew awaited.  
“Baby…” Your voice cracked under the weight of desire.  
Murphy looked up at you, still continuing his welcomed rubbing.  
“I want to…So fucking bad, I want to.”  
Knowing what you were requesting, Murphy let go of a half smile before bestowing his nod of approval.  
Needing no further direction, Connor’s hands swooped beneath your spread thighs, giving him all the leverage in the world to force you into riding him.  
Placing one dampened palm against the roof of the van, you balanced yourself as Connor began the devastating dance of bouncing you on his engorged cock.  
Lifting your soaked cavern to the very tip of his head, however never fully releasing himself from your sinful vice, Connor relished in the slick ride back down his shaft.  
Laborious grunts filled the small space of the van as Connor worked the two of you up to the climax you were both setting your sights on. Each new penetration was more fulfilling than the last and you knew that at any given moment your self control may turn on you, letting you slip into an orgasm that you were starving for.  
You looked down at Murph whose eyes were caught on the interlocking sexuality bestowed in front of him; his right hand pawing and stroking at his own rigid member.  
A hungry whine, which you held no control over, erupted from your throat as Connor pulled your hips closer towards him, allowing his thick head to play against the swollen pocket that sat against your inner channel.   
Starving to be part of what got you off, Murphy bent forward onto his hands and knees, crawling between Connor’s legs, his sights set on him being the one to force you over that climactic cliff.  
Touching his nose to your moving pelvis, Murphy caught on to Connor’s rhythm and captured your tightly wound clit between pursed lips. The tip of his tongue tapping against your swollen pressure point, in sync with the movement of Connor’s cock was too blissful for your mind to grasp.  
“Oh my god… Murph, I’m gonna come.” Your confession did nothing but spur both brothers on, their pace quickening. Connor adopted the torturous task of not only bouncing you up and down in his lap, but also moving you forward and backward, leaving no space inside you untouched; all while Murphy grazed his teeth gently over and over your erotic point.  
“Connor! Don’t stop!”  
You were too desperate to see; your vision blurred and the only thing playing across your subconscious was coming.  
You no longer had any control over your longing cries for Connor to fuck you faster, for Murphy to let you release at his touch.  
You clenched your eyes shut as every muscle in your body became concrete; a powerful pulse radiated from between your legs and seemed to stop your very lungs from functioning. The throbbing was far beyond your control as you fell forward, unable to hold yourself up any longer.  
Connor may have gripped your hips and Murphy may have caught your head on his pale shoulder, but neither motion was documented by your bliss-drenched subconscious.  
“Breathe for me, baby.” Murphy’s soft coo played into your slowly returning senses as you heaved heavily into his neck.  
Connor slowly raised your ass from his lap, gently removing himself from your still convulsing heat.  
Bending low to cradle your head, Murphy placed light kisses against your sweat glistened forehead.  
Your vision slowly returning, the corner of your eye caught sight of Connor’s palm rubbing the head of his surely painful erection, unwilling to verbalize how desperate his must be to release the pressure between his legs.  
“You achin’, Con?”  
Murphy’s eyes were sinister as he looked up to share in your lurid sight.  
Blowing a loud exhale through pouted lips, Connor gave a weak nod and a halfhearted laugh, obviously attempting to mask his frustration.  
Gently lifting you from your perched place of leaning, Murphy moved towards his brother, leaving you to rest once more against the cool metal of the van’s inner shell, etching the sight of Murph’s nude figure approaching Connor into your memory.  
Placing two strong hands, one on each thigh, Murphy pushed and pulled, slowly stroking the olive toned skin that sat beneath a light layer of fur.  
Connor let a low growl push from his mouth as he arched his back, showing the smallest sign of hesitation, but restoring his composer with a single side look in your direction.  
Murphy’s right hand slowly dipped between Connor’s legs before traveling upwards, gently pushing away his brother’s palm that had still been comforting his thickened member.  
Gripping his rough hand around Connor’s mass, Murphy pulled the sensitive skin upwards, twisting his palm slowly around the head. A gratified moan echoed throughout the metal, and there was no doubt that Connor was too grateful for friction to argue with the source.  
Starting at the base of his shaft, you watched in awe as Murphy traveled his tongue up Connor’s length, making sure to both tease and pleasure him in turn. Arriving at the top of his destination, Murphy engulfed the swollen tip, bouncing it in and out of his hallowed cheeks in quick succession before releasing it.  
“Ah, Jesus Christ… Murph…”  
Connor’s legs were tensed and his eyes were ravenous for Murphy to continue the work he had started.  
“God, Ry, you came so hard, darlin’… I can taste it on him.”  
You gave your lover a small smile, your hand aimlessly tracing your bare hip, playing with the idea of moving once again between your legs.  
Tightening his grip once more on Connor’s girth, Murphy resumed his position above the head, gathering the salted puddled that emerged there on the tip of his tongue.  
“Jesus…”  
Connor’s stomach had sunken in as he took a harsh breath, obviously becoming flustered at his built up anticipation.   
“What do ya want, Con?”  
There was a knowing tease in Murphy’s voice that you had heard a thousand times before, and you knew exactly what he was fishing for.  
Connor, however, seemed hesitant to play into Murphy’s desire.  
Realizing that Connor would need a little more persuasion, the dark haired man dipped his head once more, this time opening his mouth just wide enough to allow a gentle graze of his teeth to make contact with the leaking tip.  
“Fuck!”  
Connor’s right foot shot out from its bent position as his entire body gave a telling shiver.  
“Jesus, Murph, suck my fuckin’ cock already.”  
Grabbing Murphy’s hair at the scalp, Connor forced his brother’s head down into his lap, instantly relishing in the fact that his dick had made contact with the back of his throat.  
A lightening fueled shock traveled directly between your legs and you gave into the temptation to gently begin rubbing your nerved pearl between your finger tips.  
Still holding tightly to the back of Murph’s shagged hair, Connor forced him down repeatedly, relishing in the sound of Murphy’s gagging with each new penetration.  
Huffed breathes were now escaping Connor and you knew he was once again climbing that peak of release that he was so starved for.  
“Ugh, that’s right… take it, faster Murph.”  
Connor’s demanding control stirred something in Murphy. Swinging a rouge hand upwards and pushing away his brother’s hand, Murphy popped Connor’s aching tip from his cheek.  
“Fuckin’ bullshit.”  
You were just as caught of guard as Connor was, however there was a feeling of dominance in Murphy’s voice that left no question as to whether or not both of you would do anything he said.  
Gripping Connor by the back of the neck, Murphy yanked his twin up off of the benched seat, bringing him so close that their noses danced less than an inch from each other.  
“Turn the fuck around.”  
Murphy forced Connor onto his knees before holding up his own hand. You pinched yourself within your folds as Murphy’s tongue coated his palm in saliva. A groan let loose from your lips as Murphy’s broad shoulder worked itself back and fourth while he lubricated his cock.  
Without any hesitation, Murphy positioned himself at Connor’s tight entrance. Tightening his grip on Connor’s waist, Murphy pushed himself inside, forcing his way past the puckered circle of muscle and entering into Connor’s heated channel.   
Connor let out several loud chokes, clenching his eyes and trying to adjust to Murphy’s girth, all while his brother gave him no leeway. Murphy pulled his shaft from Connor, only to push it back in deeper.  
“Fuck, Con… If I knew ya were so fuckin’ tight I would have done this years ago.”  
Your right hand rubbing fast and sloppy circles around your clit, you felt your left rise up and begin to work your perked nipple.  
“Oh god!”  
Murphy had thrown his hips viciously forward and Connor’s voice came out horse and ragged.  
“You feel that? You feel my dick hit that, Con? You think you’re always in control and now I’m gonna make you beg me to hit it again.”  
Hearing Murphy talk about Connor’s engorged nerve endings buried inside of him made you moan much louder than you meant to.  
Both brothers turned your way after your lustful eruption.  
“You see what our girl does to herself when we fuck for her?”  
Murphy acknowledging the hand buried between your thighs only furthered your fire, as you continued to work yourself into damning arousal.  
Connor’s hands were gripped around the edge of the bench, knuckles stained white as his brother drove relentlessly into him. Although he was obviously enjoying the domination, Murphy’s body was giving away hints at his own approaching climax.  
A small muscle in the small of his back was beginning to twitch, and his intake of breath had fallen out of rhythm; you knew Murphy was much closer than he was willing to admit.  
“Murph…Ugh, Murphy…”  
Gracious to Connor for losing his composure before he did, Murphy was able to remain in sexual control.  
“You want it, Con?”  
Connor groaned deeply as Murphy drove into his ass time and time again.  
“You want my cock against that spot? That spot that’s gonna make you shoot that load that you’re so tired of holding?”  
Murphy’s crude taunts were more than Connor could bear and he quickly fell victim to shameless begging.  
“Fuck me, Murph! Ride me until I come… Let me feel that cock as deep as it’ll go.”  
Holding himself still, Murphy tightened his grip against Connor’s bruised hips and began slamming his brother’s ass down onto his stationary cock, impaling Connor over and over, driving him insane.  
Unable to form words, Connor moaned with every movement that Murphy gifted him until you watched in lustful amazement at the hot, pearled climax that shot violently from beneath Connor.   
Unbelievably soaked between your own legs, you had to stop yourself from coming all over again as Murphy slowly exited his brother, remaining rock hard and trying to regain his composure.  
Connor had fallen forward, his flat stomach lying across his own heated mess, while Murphy turned his animalistic gaze to you.  
“Get over here.”  
No better than Connor, you immediately followed Murphy’s direction, crawling on all fours to Murphy’s side, awaiting his next command.  
However now further mandate was required. Murphy instead grabbed you by your jaw and lowered himself to kiss you; his tongue making waves against your own. His mouth moved effortlessly down your chin, peppering you in light kisses before nipping passionately at your neck.  
Laying you slowly down against the carpeted floor, Murphy positioned himself above you, pressing his swollen head at the slicked opening. You had no idea just how much you wanted him until his electric blue eyes caught your own. Still feeling the pressure of him against you, a rolling relief washed over you as your gaze locked onto his.  
Thousands of unspoken words were spilled between you; loves were proclaimed, fears were confessed, soft secrets were shared; and all of this happened in a single look.  
Cupping his hand beneath your left knee, Murphy lifted your leg level with his own hip before slowly making his way within your walls. Your fingers gripped and spread over his speckled shoulders, letting yourself fall head first into the ecstasy that was Murphy inside of you.  
Letting out a low moan, Murphy’s long lashes fluttered open and closed as he fought back the urge to finish instantly. Instead, he turned his attentions to your parted lips, which were open to hungered breathing. Perching himself down on his forearm, Murphy intruded your mouth once more, washing the bitter taste of himself across your buds.  
Moving in a slow rhythm of push and pull; knots tightened and released inside your stomach, your flushed skin stuck to his, and the heated van left the two of you utterly breathless.  
Moving past your sweat stricken hair, Murph pushed his lips to your ear, whispering secrets to you, as he often did.  
“I love you.”  
Despite hearing them a thousand times before, his words sent a full body convulsion through your being. Feeling your walls clench around his shaft pushed Murphy to quicken his pace, reminding him of the orgasmic brink he was still lingering on.  
“Murphy…Faster, baby, go faster.”  
As if he had been awaiting the invitation his entire life, Murphy rose himself above you, his tattooed chest painting a lustful portrait.  
“Wrap your legs.” His grunted words were quick and low, but got his point across.  
Taking one ankle and then the other, you locked them together around the small of Murph’s back, instantly granting him far deeper leverage into your soaked sex.  
“Oh my god…”  
Greedy chants erupted from your chest as Murphy’s rigid cock fucked against your inner pad of nerve endings.  
Your sensual mewls calling to him, Connor stirred from his bench, finally regaining strength enough to come to your side.  
Gently lifting your head up, Connor maneuvered his right thigh beneath your neck, holding you up and cradling you in his lap.  
Murphy still rolling his hips between your thighs, Connor was pushing damp hair from your cheeks before lowing his lips to yours.  
Dabbing his tongue in the same rhythm that his brother fucked you was driving you into a sexual mess. You would never tire of both boys inside of you; you could never out grow the longing of being surrounded by them.  
A single droplet of sweat fell from the tip of Murphy’s nose as he continued to work you into a shameless puddle of your former self, desperate to fuck you into an orgasm before he gave into his own.  
Connor’s work worn hands traveled down your dampened chest and caressed lightly over your erect nipples, teasing them before allowing you to feel the overpowering sensation of them entering his mouth.  
Sucking at your right breast, Connor gently pinched and pressed the other, forcing you to arch your back and cry his name.  
“Rylee, let go baby.” Connor’s mouth parted ways with your breast just long enough for him to coax you. “You’re holding on so tight, let it go. You’re with us…”  
“Murph, harder…baby I’m so close.”  
Connor lowered himself to your neglected nipple, sucking in sync with Murphy’s powerful thrusts.  
“You gonna come for me, darlin’?” Murphy’s arms had began to shake under his own weight and the realization that he was seconds away from his climax only forced you closer to your own.  
“God, I’m coming! Fuck! I’m…” Your voice trailed off as you held your breath trapped inside your chest.  
A violent ache was coursing through your very bones as you came for the second time. Your quivering walls clenched around Murphy’s shaft, leaving him no choice but to fall victim to euphoria.  
Murphy’s entire body fell on top of you, sweat-drenched and heavy. Your spread fingers traveled up his spine and buried themselves in his dark hair.  
Connor traced small circles across your arm as you felt Murphy’s hot eruption spread within you.  
“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”  
Looking up, Connor’s hazel eyes were tracing the features of your face, appreciating you in your rawest form.  
“I’m trusting you, Con…”  
Murphy laid his head against your chest as you continued to move your fingers through his damp hair; Connor, however, was acknowledging the weight of your words.  
“You can let go, Ry. We’re here, and you’ll never be alone.”


End file.
